Raspberry Rose Chapter Three: Areezah Part 1

Trigger Warnings: This chapter of Raspberry's story features body dysphoria, gender dysphoria, drug and alcohol use, suggestive language, sexual situations involving a fantasy human character of 17 years old, and fantasy-based interpretations of transgender identity and concepts. Nothing in this story is meant to be offensive and the overall message Raspberry means to express is to love and accept yourself, and the world will follow suit. Thank you for reading and, as always, in a cold and dark world, we are each other's warmth and light!

Not caught up yet? Click here for Raspberry Rose Chapter 2: Grey-Scale!

After my brief foray into unconsciousness, the remaining hours of dawn moved past like pastel tapestries unraveling on the breeze over the airship's surface. Smatterings of incoherent memories melted away, my head reeled with nausea and anxiousness, and my senses were rocked as they were transported into a world unlike any I had known before. My crimson swathed body, a cloud of tulle and silk, was carried down a cold, dull grey metal gangplank as my eyelids flitted like the wings of a butterfly, granting me glimpses of what moved about this new world; the capital of Arhan-Zoul, the city of Areezah. Nearby, distant echoes clattered off the taunting metal as black scaled attendants scurried past Grey-Scale's broad shoulders, which held my weary form aloft. He pressed my body against his hard chest, dripping with the strange Shadow Silk suit's texture and, in my sorry state, I pressed back. The vibrations of his rumbling voice beating against his ribs caressed my cheek as I buried myself deeper into it, feeling safe from the delirium amid his droning commands directed to those just beyond the periphery of my bleary vision.

We walked, or ran, flew maybe? Floated? The earliest bits of Balasar's breath across the city provided brief flashes for my eyes to steal, though they were languid and fuzzy. It was steady movement, whatever form it took, through a building obscured from view by blurred half-glances. Obfuscated stairways seemed to melt from their merged positions in the tree-like skyscraper our party tread through, Grey-Scale at the head, and several attendants trailing on his coattails. A large, flattened plateau atop a brick canopy met our arrival and hollow-vein passageways guided our descent to the top floor of this monolith. In a matter of moments, we emerged from the brick-laden faux oak tree exterior into what I could only describe in my delirious state as opulent.

Sheer monochromatic curtains billowed in the gentle morning wind, fluid as silk waterfalls. As we, only Grey-Scale and I now, walked through the marbled halls of his penthouse suite overlooking the expansive Areezian skyline, they stilled, the hardened soles of his shoes clicking commands with every step. With a dream-like magic, the waving fabric turned to stark white slats, completely blocking the intrusive sunlight and their waning welcome made way for this discomforting silence broken only by the rhythmic steps of those clicking shoes. He turned a corner, adjusting his posture to keep my head and heels from colliding with the door frame, into a large, dimly lit, chamber with a lone black velvet chaise lounge. It felt like being dipped into a steaming cup of dark hot chocolate from the Tavern Jerrym. As Grey-Scale released me, emerald green flames burst to life within the immaculate relief portrait fireplace carved from the glittering marble wall.

Minutes melted into hours as those crisp green flames licked the walls of the room; a shadow and flame mobile above my cradle, painting the dimensions into existence with every graceful lash. Delirious hallucinations bled to vivid lucid dreams over the city, a sprawling nightlife with illumination as bright as Balasar. It was an ocean with skyscraper-ships bathing each other in the vibrance and lives of the crews existing in their bellies like blood. I could feel all their laughter, joy, celebrations, excitement, and the brilliance of expression and acceptance, the likes of which my cloistered home had never known.

The swirling scenes halted as I hugged a smiling Grey-Scale who twirled me away from him to leave through a shrouded, arched doorway crowned with angelic and fiendish cherubs. The trajectory of my spin guided me until I giddily slid into a seated position on a park bench. My head spun as I felt the red curls around my face tickle my neck with each lulling sway. I leaned back and dropped my head over the bench to look up hazily at the street lamp hung above me, washing me in a magical glow filtered through a radiant purple amethyst. It pulsed slowly, like a heart almost at full rest, steadily growing brighter as I watched to the point where it threatened to blind, so as to not see anything beyond it.

“Well hello child,” called a silky feminine voice that sent a shiver down my spine. The piercing words caught another sense just as the daze cleared from my sight and, at once, I knew fear in its rawest form. Where I was once alone, there now sat a figure beside me whose black robes devoured light as the post rained it over us. “This city is dangerous. I'd watch the path you tread, carefully.” A small, long-haired black and white tabby scampered into view, emerging from just past the now flickering violet hue of the lamp above. Scurrying up the robed leg of my sudden companion, the animal seemed to meld into the thick blackness of the speaker's dress. Two patches of white fur across its chest almost appeared as glowering eyes in the lap of darkness it recoiled into.

“Who are you?” I asked, sliding a little further away from her on the bench we shared, attempting to stand but weighed down by an immense, omnipresent force. There was a stirring in the air, gathering gloam obscured everything past the dimming flicker that bathed us as encroaching blackness lingered on the outskirts of the lamp's range. She seemed to exude this darkness, breathe it into existence, and encompass our dismal scene entirely. Her face was blocked by a satin cloak hood draped over her shoulder and she carried an obsidian-like staff with jutting deep violet crystals and, with a sudden lurch in my gut, I understood. My mother taught me a thing or two about crystals and how certain spell casters, known as Crystal Wytchs, can harness their latent power for magic; these particular stones in the staff were Dream Amethysts.

“My name is Ammoralite, child.” Her voice had become grating, more sinister with every syllable. Yet it held me in place in my stupor, confirming my worst suspicions of who this newfound companion was: the Goddess of Nightmares. Her gravelly drawl carried Her words across the air, but echoed in my ears like buzzing wasps, stinging my psyche with paralyzing static. There was a striking calmness to Her demeanor, yet a pointed tone that shook me to my core. She silently pulled the hood down over Her pointed ears, revealing a hauntingly beautiful dark elf woman with striking purple eyes that poured light like lavender ink over filling a well. Every inch of Her skin glittered and produced an ethereal shimmer that hypnotized me as She turned to face me, revealing the pristine fangs of a snarling predator.

“I don't typically do warnings,” She pretended to yawn, patting Her fuschia lips with nails, longer than most of my heels, that only seemed to pierce through Her fingers to extend and meld with the darkness exuding from her dress like a cocoon. “I enjoy witnessing the fear within surprise, but I'll take pity on you. There's not much you can really do about your situation now anyways. It's amusing honestly, the circumstance by which you've traipsed into my domain; most people stumble into nightmares but you dove right into this one.”

I stared at Her, bewildered, and waited for this warning She spoke of. However, She turned silent, staring into me, threatening to break every inch of all that I was if I even contemplated moving from Her violet gaze of violence. Ammoralite. I knew Her name to mean Nightmare Bringer in Rhyonian Common and being face-to-face with Her in this moment, She truly lived up to the title. My Rhyonisa told me stories about this deity: a conjurer of illusions to plague those who slept, feasting on anguish and fear. She was deranged and acted out of sheer amusement for inflicting suffering within others, but always through these illusions; there are no accounts of Her harming someone physically- though Her nightmares are known to drive people mad in the conscious world. I had never heard tales of Her making an appearance Herself, yet here She sat. I was too afraid to breathe, to think; as to be in the sight of a Goddess meant to be under Her thumb, even in a dream, locked beneath those inky pools of purple.

“You're right to be scared. Tread carefully through this new garden you've found Rose, for its soil has devoured many a flower. Now, wake up!” The Goddess pounced towards me unexpectedly, Her face twisting and splitting to unhinge like the jaws of some beast as Her form dissimulated into freezing shadow, piercing my skin with a million razors. A fracturing pain cracked through my skull sending me spiraling back from the park bench and onto the hard marbled floor of Grey-Scale's lounge. It was dark within the chamber, save for the embers in the fireplace: once roaring forest green, now smoldering violet embers. My skull and tailbone stung, excruciatingly. As I rubbed them both with my frigid fingers, I swore the fuchsia flames, popping from smoldering coals, cackled at me in the gloom.

Knock knock knock. Someone tapped on the door, slowly opening it with trepidation.

“Ms. Rose,” a soft, timid voice whispered over the dying laughter, pulling my attention to the dim golden-yellow light filtering in through the cracked entry. Almost silently, a mousy-looking woman- a doey eyed halfling lady with neatly braided brilliant orange hair- entered and bowed to me sitting, cold and aghast, on the floor. “Are you alright Ms. Rose? The sun is setting and Master Grey-Scale gave me an order to retrieve you.”

I rubbed my temples, eyeing the dying amber light crawling across the floor towards me. I stammered as I pulled myself from the ground and waved a hand in defiance as she tried to help me up. “Thank you, I'm alright. What's your name, Darling?”

“You can call me Missy.” There was a withdrawn tone and she almost cowered as I waved her away. I found this curious; no one had ever been afraid of me before. She was so minute and quick of foot that, as she moved around the lounge, I lost sight of her briefly before she'd pop up on the other side of it. Each time she darted out of view, she'd reappear with a new cleaning implement seemingly conjured from nothing- rapidly tending to the minuscule dust bunnies I hadn't even noticed in the near-immaculate room. “I'm Master Grey-Scale's maid and have been personally assigned to ensure everything you need is seen to. Is there anything I can do for you before I take you to Master Grey-Scale?” There was a nervousness to her that I should have recognized- especially after my visit from Ammoralite- as a sign, but was too rattled to truly take note of.

“No, thank you Darling. Where is he now?”

“On the balcony.” It was a quick response and she shuddered slightly as she said the word balcony, putting a physical emphasis on the otherwise monotone dance of her lips. “If you'd please, follow me, Ms. Rose. If it please you, call me Missy.” She refused to look me in the eye, bowing to almost touch the floor with her nose after she finished speaking. Something about her behavior didn't sit well with me as I watched her skittishly glance about to darkened corners.

Turning on her heels, sending her plain grey gown spiraling out like a curtain in the wind beneath her pristine white apron, Missy scampered to the door and held it wide for me in her deeply bowed posture. I lifted the long train of the dress I wore, still from last night's performance that seemed so long ago now, and strutted towards the door frame. Smiling and thanking her as I passed her, I returned the bow, much to her apparent surprise.

Through the threshold, I stood- awestruck by the scene before me. The stiffened curtains of the long hall I first entered had relaxed again and were pulled to the side, held in place by glistening aurum drawstrings to let amber-dipped sun rays bounce off of the subtle sparkles of the black marble flooring. It caught me off guard as the specks of white veins within the dark polished stone glistened like a breathing mosaic.

“This is stunning.”

“If you'll come with me,” Missy sheepishly piped from down the hall, clearly disinterested and unmoved by the beauty she had undoubtedly moved through countless times before. “Master Grey-Scale doesn't like to be kept waiting.” There was a moment's hesitation, but she continued to speak after swallowing hard. Her shoulders relaxed briefly, so quick I thought I imagined it, before flexing back to a rigid straight line across her back. “Besides, it's prettier from the balcony, come quick.”

Now that I was fully in control of my senses moving through these halls, thanks to the admittedly uncomfortable rest, I took in all I could of the dwelling of the strange dragonborn business tycoon that whisked me from my own home and into his. Beautiful works of abstract art hung along the blank walls, flanked by wondrous suits of armor. Each one unique in material and construction, seemingly from cultures across all of Rhyonis, meant for people of all shapes, sizes, and heritages. They were all affixed with various accouterments that even furthered their distinctiveness, yet the one thing that remained the same was the eerie sensation of surveillance pouring out of the helmets or headdresses affixed to the tops of them. Though no eyes were visible in the voids where a pair would be found, a feeling of unease and being watched exuded all the same.

“It's all so remarkable, I can't believe this is actually real!” I tried to keep myself distracted and focused on Missy walking quicker than anticipated through the corridors woven through one another. She clearly knew the ins and outs of this place because she moved so naturally, if hurriedly, past intersections and through doors that would swing back on her heels were I not quick enough to follow. I lost her twice, but each time she'd been eagerly waiting just around a corner, head tilted down to not look above my knees, before spinning to move at a near sprint.

She didn't answer with words, but gave me half-smiles and meaningful side-glances once she slowed her pace to allow me to keep up. “It is, but you're even more so.”

“Aww, why thank you, Darling, I like you.”

“I like you too, Miss Rose, but, please, call me Missy.” She spoke with such a sadness in her tone that it made something within me weep. I didn't understand the sorrow she quietly exuded but, as she stopped beside a door, holding it open for me from a deep bow once again, I noticed what looked to be scars around the back of her neck. “Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you during your stay here.” And with that, as I reached out to her and opened my mouth to speak, she turned to walk away just as the husky growl of Grey-Scale's voice rolled out from the open chamber.

“Ahh, my Resting Rose, awake at last! Do come in, please, please!” Grey-Scale was sitting behind a massive grey-veneered writing desk decorated with intricate carvings of black metal dragons spiraling up the legs with their heads laid on its surface, all facing towards the center. He pushed his seat back, which floated several inches above the ground with faint purple and blue motes of light twisting like a tornado to keep it aloft. Without question or invitation, he made his way around the desk to embrace me. “I trust you slept well?”

“Well actua-,”

“Wonderful! What do you want to do today? We have about two hours before our evening plans, and can probably give you a small dose of the city if you're interested.” He spoke with a breakneck excitement, child-like giddiness, that seemed to characteristically carve its way through that stoic, steely exterior he typically adorns.

There was no one in the room with us, Missy having closed the door to retreat somewhere back within the penthouse, and we were alone for the first time. There was a moment's pause and when I didn't respond, distracted by the surrounding walls of green-tinted window glass overlooking a sunset-soaked Areezah, he gently guided my chin up to look at him, locking our eyes in an unwavering stalemate that I didn't know what to think of. His dragon-like frills and scaly beard were affixed with silver and black fasteners that jingled like wind chimes inches from my face, holding my attention fast as I searched for anything but the cold grey of his irises to look at.

Despite myself, I was enthralled and sucked back to the slate spheres lingering above the accessories like twin moons in a stormy sky of grey. There was magic in those snake-slit pupils that made all sense of mobility melt away and I was stuck for I didn't know how long.

“I don't even know where to begin, there's so much out there.” He pulled away from me, releasing me from the steadfast hold he seemed immune to. I walked towards the window, finally able to move, taking in the entirety of the utterly massive city for the first, fully conscious, time. It was a sprawling metropolis sectioned off with walls and borders. Each mile of the city seemed to be from a completely different world than the last. With the height of my vantage from this office window, it looked as if I could see all of it, but nothing in particular at the same time, save for the bizarre levitating hourglass at its dead center. “What is that building?”

I felt Grey-Scale step up behind me, his thick, heavy hands resting on my waist, squeezing gently, as he placed his chin on my shoulder to follow the line made by my long-filed crimson-red fingernail. “Ahh, the Mantle's Castle, it truly is a wonder isn't it?”

The Mantle's Castle. “You mean, that's where the ruler of Arhan-Zoul lives?” Everyone on the continent knew of the Mantle, there had only ever been two during the entire existence of the nation. When the most recent one, Gustava Servin, was indited after his Proposal of Improvement to the Republic of Races nearly 500 years ago, it was the largest news story to shake the world since Malirica's Destruction. The former Mantle, Aumerilla Mantle, had founded Arhan-Zoul in the year 4997 and ruled for almost two millennia as a beloved figurehead representing unity and compassion for all peoples: the embodiment of what Arhan-Zoul was meant to stand for. Despite her unprecedented reign, Servin managed to convince her to step down: relinquishing her title, the magical cloak that granted her timeless immortality- the symbol of her power as The Mantle-, and, therefore, her life.

“Yes it is, but unless you plan on joining the Republic of Races or have a plan to 'better society' that outweighs the Shaded Coalition, I wouldn't expect to go there anytime soon.” There was a tone of bitterness in his voice around the phrase better society as he stepped back towards his desk and released a lengthy sigh, instantly reminding me of my Yonny. I could have stared at the immaculate hourglass for hours, dancing weightlessly on the wind above the city, but the sound of a spark and pungent smell of burning rose petals caught my attention, pulling my eyes toward Grey-Scale casually leaning against the edge of the desk nearest me.

“I'd suggest setting your sights a bit closer to the ground, Love, it's an easier target.” He held a smoking tube towards me, gently clutched between thick grey fingers with sharp talons while red and pink clouds rolling out of his nostrils like steam. “This is Rose Weed, I have a feeling you'll enjoy it, helps to calm the mind and ease the body.”

I was immediately wary of it. I had developed an aversion to smoking of any sort after Lockstead’s many offers of sweed. I tried it once and almost vomited as the acrid salty smoke filled my lungs, but there was something about the faintly sweet smell coming from this pipe that drew me in. “I must admit, I have quite the proclivity for roses, does it burn?”

“Only in the best way, Rose! Here, try it.” He took a long drag from the pipe, causing the burning substance inside to glow a luminous, enticing, pink before handing it off to me. His posture slacked, shoulders slumping several inches to diminish his imposing form, as he closed the gap between us and I noticed an almost innocent glee paint his smiling scaled lips.

“Why not,” I feigned lackadaisical interest, stepping to meet him toe to toe. “When in Areezah.” As I playfully flicked the pink paper from his fingers, I held it to my parted lips, locking eyes with Grey-Scale as he snapped his fingers. A small grey flame rolled across the tiny scales of his fingers, kicking up into a flame large enough to burn the end of wrapping, taking in a slow, steady breath.

“It tastes just like Rose Water and it doesn't burn at all!”

“Not physically, Rose, but give it a moment and any anxiety or tension you may have might as well be ash.” He was right. Almost as soon as the words left his lips the room softened and my joints relaxed, dropping me closer to the floor as he had but moments ago. Pastel pink smoke filled the room; everything seemed calm and right for the first time since I had felt the familiar heat of the spotlight on my face on the stage of the Tavern Jerrym.

“So, anything in particular you want to see or do before I take you to one of my favorite spots in the city?” There was an awkwardly long and loud rumbling from my belly that I tried to cover with my hands, but knew that there was no hiding the monstrous growls of hunger. He simply chuckled and threw his arm over my shoulder, diamond rings and chains glinting off his fingers and chiming with the motion. “Food first it is! Come this way, Rose, your stomach's wish is my command!” A small popping sound caught my attention as we steered past the desk, which was then followed by faint glows from each of the draconic eyes on the corners. I was too out of sorts to register what it was, but I certainly took note. Grey-Scale continued making his way towards a seemingly solid wall while I half-heartedly watched the light, but I was immediately awestruck as he just phased through it as if it weren't there; a faint and familiar illusory shimmer denoted this as a secret passage. Be it the strange numbing sensation of the Rose Weed in my lungs, the allure of new magics, or the hunger in my belly, I eagerly followed as his thick palm reached back through the wall, expectantly waving my hither.

“Magic huh? Do you have a lot of that around here? Jerrym saw few travelers and even fewer with magic so my experience with it is rather limited.” His brow arched for a moment when I asked and he gave a knowing glance to the gown I was still wearing from the night before.

“I can see you've a bit of magic yourself Rose, surely illusions are nothing new to you.”

“I do have a few tricks up my sleeve, I'll admit, but I've always believed my true power was with my performances, this is child's play to me at this point.” With a wave of my hand I brushed away the fabricated layers of pink and red and revealed myself to be wearing nothing more than a plain white shirt held in soft cotton pants that did little to show off the Raspberry figure I'd become known for. I managed to just alter the illusion, however, refusing to allow the boxy, boyish body that was my true form to reveal itself. I kept a veneer of confidence, reinforced by Raspberry's illusory body, but felt my inhibitions falter in the wake of the deconstructing Rose Weed; this was the most exposed I had ever allowed myself to be since declaring my identity as Raspberry and even this was a facade. “This admittedly helps me move and perform easier, but I do love the drama of a flowing skirt, Darling.”

He smiled, visible even in the darkness of the stone staircase that spiraled downward past his office space and into an illuminated corridor, flicking green flames across the intricate stonework floor and walls. There was no mention of the minor illusion I still upheld, despite the show to dismiss it. As he had held me the night before, I can only assume he had at least felt my true proportions, though he said nothing to infer he was concerned about it which was strangely comforting itself. The truly ironic thing is, I don't think I had ever felt more seen.

“You're fascinating Rose, you know that? As much as I love your vision, I would insist on providing you with something real, if you'd allow me.” His grip tightened on my hand a bit more as he led us further down the corridor and we emerged into a busy dining hall, immaculately put together like a fairy tale palace. Several servants darted from their individual places at a colossal longtable, outfitted with serving trays and silverware as if he were hosting a feast. Refusing to look at either of use, they scampered to ornamental paintings and display cases that dotted the exterior, standing like the suits of armor in the halls. They paid us only enough a bow as Grey-Scale dismissed them all with a flick of his wrist; running through mahogany doorways that swung back on themselves to denote that it was just the two of us again.

“Please, take a seat wherever you're comfortable, I'll be back in a moment.”

The instant I was alone, my host following the last of the servants to leave- whom I recognized immediately to be Missy- the brief taste of tension melted into the sensation of floating once again. It was as if nothing existed except me and whatever was directly in front of me; a smoke induced tunnel vision that blinded me to all beyond a five foot radius. At this particular moment, what held my limited gaze, was a posed mannequin looking out a velour curtained window. They had no facial features, but the body was clearly meant to be of a masculine figure with thick muscles and broad shoulders. It wore a sheer yellow pencil skirt with a matching top of alternating orange and yellow silks that gave it the dimensions and appearance of an oil painting sunset. It was beautiful, but with the demure pose and longing faceless glance out the window, I couldn't help but feel sorry for it: knowing all too well the familiar emotion of longing the artist was conveying.

“A former designer from the Solstice fashion house owned this floor before I bought it from them.” Grey-Scale's voice echoed through the vacant dining hall, noticing my intrigue with the mannequin. “They were, and presumably are, a remarkable talent,” he said, crossing the hall to join me and look upon the piece so elegantly, yet tragically, posed. “I met them during one of their house's shows in the fashion district as they walked down the Apparel Bridge. Their artwork spoke to me and I ended up spending a great deal of gold for their home and pieces they no longer wanted. I presume they are retired now somewhere tropical, maybe in Ashasis or somewhere peaceful like Valedaryn.” He held out a silver platter sporting bowls of fruit, glasses of wine, and colorful pastries. “I wasn't sure what you'd like so I just had the staff gather a sample tray for you.”

Be it the sweet gesture, the Rose Weed itself, or the unexpected shared interest in fashion, I blushed at his words and walked over to him to give him a hug after he set the dish on the long black runner covering the length of the massive dining table. “Thank you, Mr. Grey-Scale,” I said into his collarbone. “I really do appreciate your kindness, and you have exquisite taste, even though I already knew that when you took interest in me.” With a slow, sweeping gesture, he took an apple off the platter and bit into it before pulling a seat out for me and taking one of his own next to it so we could share the colorful collection. “I do love sweets, so this is perfect.”

“I had a feeling you might.” He paused only to take a long sip from the larger of the two glasses, deep crimson liquid sloshing against the walls before sliding through his thin dark lips. “How would you feel about going to see some Areezian performers tonight? You are here to take the city by storm after all, it may do you some good to see at least a drizzle of our nightlife, no?” A quizzical look twisted his lips when the words left them and Grey-Scale smiled from ear to ear, again, with that childlike glee. “Last night was your Light Night wasn't it? I guess it's good I brought you cake then! You know, in some lands, cake is customary to celebrate the anniversary of one's birth. Just how old are you Rose?”

The question made me a little uncomfortable inwardly. I began to think he probably wouldn't have much interest in a seventeen-year-old. Eighteen is the legal age of adulthood for humans in Rhyonis, and he'd probably be a bit upset knowing I was still considered a child and hadn't been upfront with that unfortunate fact to begin with. A lie began to creep to my lips but his eyes bore holes in mine and the truth poured out with crumbles of the remains of the sweet raspberry cheesecake I had just bit into. “I just turned seventeen, Mr. Grey-Scale.”

A faintly quizzical look of disappointment lifted his brow for but a moment, then quickly melted into a calculated relaxed state as he held a napkin up to wipe away the red glaze running down my chin. “That'll make things a tad more difficult, but nothing a few coins in the right hands can't mend. You're a star, Rose, and I want you to experience all the best parts of the city that you'll rule someday. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

I wasn't sure what to say as it felt wrong, but right to want it. I could feel my cheeks beginning to blush intensely: slightly embarrassed, extremely flattered, and overly curious as to what it was exactly he wanted to show me. “I mean, I didn't come all this way to just be kept as another piece of art alongside your mannequins.” I leaned forward over the table, retrieved a larger apple from the platter and added Darling with a cat-like pur before taking a bite of the ruby fruit I was hoping would make me not look so flush by comparison. He just smiled and took the apple from my hand then nonchalantly took a bite from the same spot I just had, his massive draconic jaw almost devouring all that remained before returning it to my waiting palm.

“That's what I like to hear! Let's take a walk through the gallery, you're more than welcome to anything you like and we'll have Missy make any alterations that may need be done.” He clapped his hands and stood up, immediately summoning an entire staff of servants from various doors through the dining hall that swarmed like pheromone-drawn insects to his beck and call. His hand was waiting for my grasp to aid in my ascent, which I was thankful for since the Rose Weed still had me feeling a little wobbly. “Why don't you take those heels off Rose, you may be a little more stable then.”

I scoffed at the laughable suggestion. I trotted past his arms a little indignant, denying any additional offered assistance. “As if, Darling. The higher the heel the prouder the strut and I am much more comfortable strutting than, and please take no offense to this, walking as the mundane common folk do, like yourself!” At that he smirked a cheeky grin from the side of his mouth down at me and, together, we made our exit from the dining hall as his staff watched us silently from their positions.

Before we even made it out of the dining hall, a soft, sourceless melody of violin and piano music drifted into my ears, sending chills through my entire body and a tear to my eye. It was tragically alluring, hypnotic in a way, and as it slipped through the door we were about to enter, I felt the harmonies in my bones. The pieces were clearly separate songs but they played over each other in a melding of notes that felt utterly magical and coterminous. An otherworldly experience to say the least. As my eyes were met with the most immaculate gallery of gown-clad mannequins, I felt a sense of home and belonging unlike ever before.

Those tears must have shook my body with their weight because Grey-Scale put his chin on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Don't cry Rose. Anything you want is yours, except for sadness, that I won't allow. Please, find whatever you like most and it's yours.”

“I'm sorry, this is just the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!” Row upon row of statuesque figures boasted stunning garments that all had a similar angular fashion flare that Grey-Scale's Shadow Silk suit bore. Stark pleated peaks of fabric darted off of limbs that swayed and moved to the rhythm of the music, waving their arms towards me from atop crystalline podium stands even as they were donned by lifeless statues. The music seemed omnipotent and all-encompassing, each note pulling me deeper into the gallery, past model after model that seductively danced and swayed their arms just to pull them back from me, tempting me to choose them. “What are these?”

“The mannequins? Simply that, but Shekar-Velar is an enchantress, her music can make even inanimate objects move. I've chosen two of my favorite pieces to play from the Telecrystal podiums to give this gallery a bit more flare. Do you not like it? I can silence them if you'd prefer.”

“To like would be putting it lightly, Darling.” I was absolutely awestruck. I began to dance and move with them, grabbing their hands and allowing them to move mine up to their lipless faces that would kiss the back of them with a cold peck of expressionless affection. The music moved me from garment to garment, dance partner to dance partner, until I was almost delivered to the single most ravishing piece I had ever laid my eyes on. “I love it.”

The dress in question was absolutely stunning. I could spot an authentic diamond from a mile away and the bodice was studded with countless diamonds and rubies, each perfectly cut to accentuate the next. The red gems sat in a dragon scale pattern that almost looked like rose petals laid on top of one another, offset and trimmed along the corset with dazzling diamonds that caught the light and demanded attention like any good garment should. Even the mannequin wearing it stood apart from the others around her. She was undeniably feminine, her proportions were beautifully curvaceous, full and round. I envied her, simply standing and seductively rolling her hips to the beat of the overlapping instruments. She was everything I wished I looked like, and tried my best to be with my own magic.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, staring at her immaculate perfection. The more she taunted me, the more entranced I became. It was Grey-Scale who inevitably shook me from the near catatonic state, his hands on my shoddy garbed shoulders in comparison to the mannequin's. “I should have known this would be the piece you'd choose. Do you want to know its name?” I nodded slowly, not daring to take my eyes away from the piece, nor the inanimate being who bore it. At this point, had both of her soft metal palms on my cheeks, her face inches from mine. He leaned extremely close to my ear, tickling my neck with the frills of his angular chin, all three of us in a tantalizing state of calm and closeness before whispering, “The Rose Dragon. Fit for a queen, I'd say.” When I said nothing in response, his silence met my ears like a shriek, and suddenly it was just her and I as he pulled away into my shadow; Raspberry and The Rose Dragon.

“She's perfect.”

“You both are. I'll give you your privacy to try her on. Would you like me to send Missy in to assist?” My head nodded, again without my volition, and I was alone with The Rose Dragon for but a moment until I felt the demur mousy presence of Missy the halfling maid beside me. She quickly got to work undressing the mannequin that wore The Rose Dragon and I stood watching her as she hastily loosened corset strings, buckles, buttons, and countless other fasteners, all the while I could barely move. The mannequin stood still, allowing this to happen completely unabashed, but then it was my turn.

Missy refused to look me in the eye as she worked, but when her steps brought her to stand behind me to undress as she did the mannequin, I jumped in a start, spinning and tripping her with the wide defensive flourish of my heeled shoe. “Please don't strike me Miss Rose! I'm sorry I was just doing as I was told!” Pure terror welled in her face, waterfalls beginning to overflow and paint her ruddy cheeks as she defended herself with thin bruised arms.

A lump formed in my throat and the loss of words held me in place as she held her reedy limbs up in protective panic. Never has anyone reacted in such a way to me and I was so aghast that anyone would think I'd hit them. I was immediately reminded of the throbbing pain delivered with a balled fist into my nose by an angry boy in the snow several years ago, the fateful night I met Odezz't. As guilt twisted my guts, I stammered lamely, too afraid to move to assist her when she stood up and cowered, bowing in her steps away from me.

“I'm so sorry Missy, I didn't mean to trip you, are you alright?”

She wiped the tears away on a stained handkerchief from between her breasts and spoke, barely audible through her sobs. “Y-Yes Miss, I apologize for making you worry about me. I'm alright, I'm not worthy of your concern. Please, may I assist you? I should have asked to begin with, I apologize, you were right to strike. Miss Rain never wanted me to speak in her presence while dressing her and it was foolish to not ask your permission.”

“Miss Rain?” I asked with fluster, veracious moths of curiosity churning in my intestines. I was still reeling from Missy's reaction and without even knowing who this Miss Rain was, I hated her for making this sweet woman so afraid. “Who is she?”

“A friend of Master Grey-Scale's, she's a performer from The Seedy Cedar, the Master's favorite establishment in the Fling Ring. She's beautiful, stunningly talented, and if I may be so bold to say in your confidence,” she looked around sheepishly to assure we were truly alone before whispering, “terrifying.” There was hesitation in her words the more she spoke, and it seemed as if the weight of what was on her mind pushed her further to the floor.

“Go on Missy,” I said, tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder to grant her some sort of encouragement. I took a seat on the ground, placing my face lower than her's so I could look up to her eyes. “You're always free to speak to me, Darling, ease your mind and tell me what's troubling you, please.” The steady trickle of tears began again and a few stray droplets rolled off her cheeks onto the floor between us, darkening the lush grey rug to black specks. I could tell the words escaped her, or rather suffocated her from within her throat, so I simply pulled her in and hugged her tight, feeling the weighty heaves of anxiety wrack her tiny body. “You're safe with me Darling, I swear it. After all, in a cold and dark world, we are each other's warmth and light, are we not?”

After several minutes of this exchange, Missy's cries slowed to faint sobs and gasps, breath returning to her, she managed to choke out a few words through the lingering resistance. “Excuse me, Miss Rose, I'm in a sorry state. You know The Mantle's words and speak them well. Lady Aumerilla would be proud to have you in her city.” She stood and dusted off her smock before extending her hand to help me to my feet as well. It was a quick turn around and a cheery smile parted the flushed crimson hills that were her cheeks. Knowing her smile filled me with joy and relief. Nearby, there was a small bench, barely enough room for us both to fit, but we sat beside one another and she spoke as clearly as she could, emotion still shaking her between sentences.

“Miss Rain has a temper. She was the first person to really welcome Master Grey-Scale to the city when he arrived in the Summer of 7511 and he's been friendly with her ever since. He's remarkably brilliant, though had nothing apart from his wits when he came to Areezah, but he quickly made a name for himself wherever he went and the gold wasn't far behind.

Gambling was his game at first, and that was the foundation of a lot of his wealth and connections. It wasn't long before the dealings and trade began, and THAT'S where a lot of his money comes from these days. I don't know what he does really, but he bought this penthouse and hired the entire staff several years ago, me along with them.” She paused for a breath, thought for a moment, and hurriedly continued, apparently feeling safe enough to confide in me which offered me a bit of reassuring validation. “Now, from the streets to the casinos of the High Stakes Peaks to this place we call home, Miss Rain has been on his coattails the entire time. I don't believe either of them to be inherently evil people, but they certainly aren't kind and I'm always working to avoid disappointing the Master.” Her face was beet red at this point and the words began to flow from her mouth like a broken spout. It was evident she wasn't given a chance to speak often, and I had no intention of stopping this kettle from spilling tea. “They've always been cozy when she's here, the only time I've really seen him soften that steely exterior he wears like a fur coat. In front of the fireplace in his chambers, they share long nights, countless drinks, laughs, dreams and it reminds me that he isn't full of malice like I see when he makes deals and bargains in his office. Although, Miss Rain always preferred their company over his.” She gestured to the now completely still mannequins. I hadn't noticed the music stop, but looking away from Missy for a moment, the unsettling way they were all posed toward us, stark still, sent an unearthly chill through my entire body.

“Has she-,”

“Worn The Rose Dragon? No Miss Rose, red isn't her color. She prefers black.” Ugh, I liked her even less now, as if that were possible. “As far as I know, it's never been worn since my previous employer, the Solstice artist, Marrion Magnifique completed it. That being said, why don't we get you into it? A beautiful dress for a beautiful, kind woman.” Missy smiled in a way that cast out all the shadows looming behind the still mannequins and I couldn't help but reflect it. She was so sweet and pure, I couldn't help but adore her.

“Thank you Missy. I'm sorry for frightening you, again, no one has seen me undressed before and it truly was out of fright.” I choked on the next words, feeling them pull back the reins on my tongue, but I forced them past my lips. I trust her. I reminded myself. “I'm a Rhyonin.” I blushed, it didn't feel natural saying it aloud. In fact, it felt like an admittance of a dirty secret that I was ashamed to share. I was always Raspberry Rose and stating anything otherwise felt like a betrayal of the person I had become since defining myself after meeting Odezz't.

“There's no need to be embarrassed, Miss Rose! I am as well! Areezah is welcoming of all peoples and you should have no reason to feel uncomfortable here, least of all with me.” Nothing else needed to be said after that. Missy simply held her hand out to me, bright-eyed and red cheeked on the bench. In an instance of immediate connection and kinship, I felt validated and seen and accepted without needing to fight for it as I had in the past. I had never met another Rhyonin in my life, or at least none I heard admit it, and so brazenly no less. Together, as true friends, we walked to The Rose Dragon and simply watched it in a moment of shared silence.

“Alright,” I sighed in anticipation, releasing her hand and looking down towards my first Areezian friend. “I'm ready.”

It took us about 20 minutes to gingerly ease the delicate gown onto my body. The jewels and fabric were so heavy, I almost fell several times but Missy was a great assistant and always seemed to swoop in just in time to support my balance. She'd carefully placed her hands beneath the layers of soft textures and rough stones, righting my stance as I'd slip further into the garment which felt so right against my skin. After it hung loosely on my frame, Missy got to work pulling the strings of the corset as taut as they'd go- robbing me of the few breaths I could spare for the sake of fashion-, clasping buttons with smooth movements, and fastening clasps with satisfying pops before taking a few steps back to look me over, beaming with pride.

“Wow Miss Rose. Just Wow.”

“Wow is right.” Grey-Scale's voice startled me, not having noticed him come in, and I was immediately embarrassed and bashful for not knowing how much of my dressing he bore witness to. Suddenly, he was in the room with us, but the door separating the gallery from the dining room never moved, or maybe it had and I was just too enamored looking down at the massive scarlet hoop skirt beneath my bodice like an upturned raspberry. “Missy, leave us.”

I disliked hearing my friend spoken to and dismissed like that, but as I looked to her for reassurance, her face hadn't stopped smiling up at me from the moment of our newfound kinship until she bowed and turned away to leave, avoiding eye contact with Grey-Scale as she skirted past him, quiet as a perfect little mouse. It was just us in the room now, silent as the mannequins, and in just a couple of strides, he closed the gap to stand toe to toe with me. Be it my confidence with having a friend in Missy, or simply the dress making me feel more empowered, I stared him directly in the eye and crossed my arms, clearly putting up a wall between us before he could say anything else.

“I don't like how you treat her.”

“She's my maid Rose, I can treat her however I'd like. How would you expect a shark to treat a minnow?” He looked taken aback, stunned even, but he simply mirrored my stance and squared his shoulders back. There was an air of pride, arrogance even, and what I could only assume was indignance; I could tell Grey-Scale wasn't the type of man people stood up to often.”You're actually upset, aren't you Rose?”

I scoffed at his face and broke contact first, rolling my eyes to turn and gaze upon something more interesting than that smug face of his; me. I floated to the full mirror on the far wall to get the full effect of the vision that I was in The Rose Dragon, its fabric wafting the magical scent of fresh roses with every step. As I took in the full image, I couldn't help but smirk. It fit me so perfectly, as if it were actually made for me, and I was utterly infatuated with the reflection of the beautiful woman before me. Meanwhile, in the mirror several paces back, Grey-Scale was standing behind me, irritation melting into a proud smile.

“You're far too pretty to be upset, Rose. I'll be better to her, for you. Now, smile for me.”

I didn't turn to look at him, but smiled up at his reflection before saying, “I am pretty, aren't I?”

“Yes, you are, and if it'd please you, your elegance, our air coach is awaiting us. You've a plethora of people to impress.”

“Oh? An air coach and an audience, for me? What more could a girl ask for?” He bowed to me, after a quick clap which sent the music into full effect again and the mannequins reverted to their elegant dancing in place, he held out his coarse draconic hand for mine as we made our exit. As soon as I touched his palm, he kissed the back of my own hand, seductively looking up into my eyes and it was like a spell was placed over my entire body. I moved without my control, as if affected by the Rose Weed even though I felt the high fade before even entering the gallery.

“Where exactly are we off to, Mr. Grey-Scale?” The air was sweet as we reentered the dining hall, luscious pink smoke filling the angled rafters of the ceiling. I swear I saw tiny ephemeral dragons forming from within the clouds and perching atop the wondrous chandelier in its center. They looked down upon us, exhaling billows of clouds that moved and danced through the thin smoke like the gown-clad statues in the previous room.

They must have been holding me up too long because Grey-Scale coughed from across the hall before the stained glass window that was pushed open with a hovering carriage floating just past the exterior of the pane. “Your chariot awaits, Lady Rose.” He bowed once more, one hand outstretched towards me, the other beckoning the sparkling airborne vehicle closer, partially out of view from proximity. The whirring magical engine holding the vessel aloft drifted it just inches from the window, who knew how many feet above the bustling city walk of Areezah. Even without the haziness of the smoke in my lungs, the step was dizzying as I leaned closer to the edge. Despite the fact that the carriage was less than a foot from the window, the thought of the fall was enough to make me nauseous.

With just a step over the window's ledge, I was completely enveloped in swathes of sheer burgundy satin, my heels clicking persistently as I clambered into the fabric lined interior. The walls, floors, and seats were all a voluminous plush that gave to the slightest pressure and breathed like the inside of a cushioned lung and it was yet another in the string of first experiences I had endured in the past several days.

“Well this certainly is a way to arrive in style, Darling.” It was a bit of a dance to fit the entirety of The Rose Dragon beneath my hindquarters on the bench facing the head of the stagecoach which was quickly filled by Grey-Scale, dapper in a new silk suit with a black wood walking stick and wide brimmed top hat. The train of the fabulous gown filled the majority of the floor space but he tread with great care to not damage even the slightest bit of the skirts brushing up against his leg as he rested the cane against the door he pulled close with a loud thud.

“Yes, it is. Driver, take us to the Cedar!” I adjusted the sparkling tie that had gone eschew from his entrance and he pulled at his collar briefly, looking uncomfortable in the admittedly cramped quarters as we started with a jolt onward to our destination. “That reminds me, you're not to call me Darling in public Rose, it may draw unwanted attention and suspicion at our yet to be defined arrangement.” There was a calculating expression painted across his scaly mouth and I could see the gears turning behind those steely azure eyes with his fist tucked beneath his chin. “Here, the Coalition watches everything like insufferable aarakocra. You’ll draw a lot of attention on your own, but with me, we're quite the striking pair. You’ll stick to Mr. Grey-Scale while we’re out of safe spaces and our story will be that you’re a member of Jerrym’s town council. Ahh, a representative of your father’s estate, even better, the best lies are built with the foundation of truth after all. You, Rose Coal, are visiting to witness the Grey-Scale Corporation's plans with your town’s diamond collections. Your father's name is Leoravich Coal, correct?.”

I didn't care for the commands, but I couldn't help but admire the tact he employed. Each word wrote itself after its predecessor, rolling off his tongue like waves. I knew he had a knack for business, but it was becoming increasingly obvious how quick he was to deceit and underhanded tactics. Were it not for my benefit, I would have been bothered and concerned, but I wasn't about to turn down the chance to perform in the greatest city in the world, even under slightly seedy circumstances.

“Alright, Mr. Grey-Scale, I'll play the game with you. I'll be the dewey-eyed Rose Coal, eager to see the business of the Grey-Scale Corporation in the grand city of Areezah-,”

“Why do I feel a but coming?”

“But you better believe as soon as the spotlight hits me, I'm going to show the world what a star Raspberry Rose is.” He grinned ear to ear and it seemed to take up the little remaining space of our tight quarters. His teeth gleamed with a glistening green liquid, like he was salivating at the thought of watching me perform again, or maybe it was my willingness to lie with the mere suggestion of a plot. Remembering the acidic spit boring into the deck of the airship sent a shiver down my spine, but I swallowed it back and did my best to look as cool and collected as he did. “What are you smiling about?”

“You really are a star, Rose, and stars shine the brightest at night.”

“That's really the only time they shine, what's your point, Dar-, Mr. Grey-Scale?”

“Just that I am the darkest night, you're my brightest star, and as long as you're with me, you'll never not shine.” He leaned in extremely close, his elbows on his knees, chin resting coolly on the backs of his interwoven fingers and I was absolutely mesmerized. Grey-Scale really knew all the right things to say to draw me in; hook, line, and sinker. When he spoke like that, I truly believed that he could make anything happen. “We'll be arriving soon, relax and try not to be too much of a spectacle.” He looked me up and down in the opulent gown I took from his gallery and I crossed my arms, arching an eyebrow; knowing that to be a near-impossible request. “Well just try, alright?”

Several minutes passed of stirring anticipation before the carriage slowed to a halt; a slight lurch and clatter suggesting we landed on a rocky cobblestone road. A small window appeared in the wall next to Grey-Scale's head, the fabric lining of the carriage's interior unraveling with a magical distortion. Several popping noises drew my eye, but I did my best to look as uninterested as possible. A bald headed figure with three eyes tattooed across their forehead peered in and scanned over Grey-Scale who was holding up a leather satchel that clattered with the unmistakable chime of coins and, what I instantly recognized as, diamonds.

In a monotone voice that seemed to rattle the very air of the coach, the figure said, “Grey-Scale, Rhyon dragonborn, 37 years of age, admittance to Fling Ring approved, accompanied by a new arrival to Areezah. State name, gender identity, race, and age.”

Grey-Scale coughed and put his palm to the person's forehead, pushing it out of the carriage and held the sack in the window to prevent them from entering again. He shot daggers at me, expecting me to say something and I knew this was where my first performance began.

“Rose Coal, Rhyona human, 20. Ugh, Mr. Grey-Scale, is this going to take much longer? You promised me a show, or do you not want me to withhold my father's, and Jerrym's, diamond collections? Just one strongly worded letter to Mayor Lockstead and your deal is off. You know that, correct?”

“Admittance to the Fling Ring approved.” The coins were snatched from Grey-Scale's hand and, in a flurry, the window disappeared as the fabric stitched itself back together. Once we were alone again, the vehicle began to drive forward slowly and Grey-Scale crossed his arms, smiling at me with an air of satisfaction and respect.

“Nicely done Rose, you perform tonight half as well as you just did now, you'll be a house-hold name by the morning!” I did my best to not look satisfied with myself, adjusting the bodice around my breasts and looking coyly at him, as if I ever gave a less than stellar performance. We moved in silence for several more minutes and he just stared at me as I looked through the small window pane of the door frame. Countless lights connected to massive skyscrapers and thinly curved lamp posts soared past as our carriage moved. It was absolutely breathtaking and unlike anything I had seen in Jerrym, like tiny earth-bound constellations dancing in the streets of Areezah as we drove along. Despite that, he still just stared at me. Maybe he had seen these zardons, these star-like lights, enough times for their luster to lose their beauty, or maybe he was just that impressed by me, his eyes couldn't move from their locked position. I tried to not pay it attention, but felt his slit pupils trained on my body intently, tearing through the blue irises, penetrating the red gown, and directly into my chest.

The coach slowed to a halt and the sounds of exuberance and jubilation met the otherwise quiet stillness our pairing sat in. “Are you ready to make your debut, Ms. Coal?” Grey-Scale spoke excitedly with an enticing wisdom of all the things Areezah had to offer me amid the cheers beyond the carriage's door. Revelry beat against it in time with the heart in my chest, threatening to pop the diamonds and rubies off my gown from its urgency. He smiled at me reassuringly, taking my hand and kissing the back of it before looking up with a knowing and encouraging glance. “You've got this, just follow my lead.” Grey-Scale opened the door and took a deep step to find purchase on the ground. Without hesitation, he held his hand back inside the small chamber I sat in alone, steadying myself and preparing to make the world know my name. I steeled my breath, took it, and was gently guided out into a bustling night street before a massive cedar tree towering high into the glistening night sky. Tonight, the world would know my name.

Want to keep reading? Click here for Raspberry Rose Chapter Three: Areezah Part 2! (Coming Soon)

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