It had been a week or so since Zariya enjoyed all that Hosenka had to offer. With the resurgence of Akudama, the city had stabilized and as of late, Dahlia City demanded most of her attention. Like Dahlia, Hosenka was a city not for the faint of heart, where darkness flourished in every corner. Beneath its polished surface, crime lords pulled the strings, and those who thrived in chaos found refuge. It was no wonder Zariya had always felt at home here. She ruled from the shadows, and in the underworld, where her past failures had once festered, Akudama was rising once again.

Despite her missteps, she managed to slip into circles most would pay millions of jewels to enter--like tonight’s exclusive event at the Usaka Gallery.

The invitation had arrived through her underworld connections, and needing a distraction, Zariya had accepted without hesitation. She had a fondness for these lavish gatherings, if only to learn more about the upper echelon that selfishly pulled Fiore’s strings. Most of them were Fiorian, many were her enemies, but the champagne was free, and Zariya never passed on an opportunity to indulge. Her gaze swept the room, drifting over the high-society attendees, while she searched for someone particular.

It had been years since she last saw Charles, who, by all accounts, had been lurking around Fiore. What exactly he’d been doing was unclear, but Zariya intended to find out tonight. Their homeland of Iceberg had suffered too many attacks, too many losses for her not to have seen him in so long. He knew her well enough to expect a scolding-- or at the very least a cold, indifferent embrace. Yet, not all between them was strictly business. In truth, Zariya was lonelier than ever. Her brother was dead, her mother long gone, her father sick, and one by one, the members of Akudama had abandoned their mission.

She needed a friend. And true friends were a rarity for the Queenpin.

Except, perhaps, for Erebus--the only man who made her forget, if only for a moment, how truly alone she was.

Zariya strolled through the gallery, champagne in hand, her eyes drifting over the art on display. Her kimono brushed softly against the floor, the golden headpiece in her hair gently swaying with each step. Then, she stopped, captivated by one painting in particular. For a moment, it stole her breath.

The piece portrayed a hauntingly beautiful nightscape of Hosenka City, bathed in the silvery glow of the moon. Shadows danced across the cobblestone streets and ancient architecture, casting the scene in an eerie yet enchanting light. The intricate details held her attention, each brushstroke revealing the artist’s intimate connection to the city’s melancholic beauty. As she stood before it, lost in the painting, the gallery's noise faded into the background.

Zariya’s grip tightened slightly on the champagne glass as she heard his voice. She didn’t look at him right away, her eyes lingering on the painting that had so captivated her a moment before. But now, her focus shifted. Charles had grown. She could feel it. His presence beside her, tall and commanding, stirred something in her, a fraction of the sensation she hadn't felt since she last saw the Don of Death. That familiar flutter in her stomach threatened her composure, but she pushed it down, forcing herself to remain as poised and level-headed as ever.

The Vampiress finally turned and her gaze drifted up to meet his. He had the same short dark hair she remembered, and though still slim, there was a lot more definition in his frame. Charles's sharp features hadn’t lost their allure, and despite herself, Zariya found him just as handsome as he’d been always been. Her lips parted slightly as if she might say something soft, but she quickly shut them, tightening her jaw. No smile.

"Charles," she finally said, her voice cool although a touch softer than usual.

Her golden kimono gleamed under the gallery lights, its intricate design matching the delicate crown-like headpiece resting on her head. She felt like every bit the Queenpin she had become. And Yet, for all her power, the sight of an old friend standing beside her made her feel vulnerable in ways she wasn't quite used to. The Akudama let out a small inaudible sigh, keeping her voice low so no one nearby could hear. "I suppose you've been busy," she began. "Too busy to send word? Not a single letter, not even a fucking whisper through the shadows."

Zariya took a step closer, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, though her face remained calm. Her voice, though still low, carried a sharpness that cut through the hum of the gallery. "You vanish for years, and then you waltz in here and the first thing you do is fucking compliment me?" Her hand twitched at her side, wanting to reach out and touch him, to feel something tangible in this moment. But she resisted. Her eyes flicked back to the painting for a brief second, as if seeking comfort in the familiar darkness of Hosenka’s streets depicted there.

"You know what Iceberg has been through. What I’ve been through." Her voice softened, almost wistful, as the hurt slipped through the cracks in her cold exterior. "I could’ve used a friend, Charles. Where were you?"

Zariya stopped herself before saying more, her gaze finally locking with his again, her expression unreadable. For all her composure, there was a weight behind her words that even she couldn’t entirely hide.

Zariya’s jaw clenched as Charles spoke, his calmness only fueling the storm that had been brewing inside her for years. His words cut deeper than he knew. No excuses, no justifications--he was right. The Vampiress hadn’t asked for him, but she shouldn’t have had to. The thought simmered in her mind, making her pulse quicken.

Before she could think it through, her hand moved on its own.

The smack was quick, sharp, and satisfying. Her palm stung as it connected with his face, the sound cutting through the gentle hum of the gallery around them. A few heads turned, curious eyes briefly glancing their way, but no one lingered. The elite of Fiore weren’t particularly interested in the personal dramas of others. Zariya’s chest rose and fell as she looked at him, her hand still tingling from the slap. For a moment, she thought she might walk away, let the anger carry her off, but instead, she took a breath, the fury deflating like a punctured balloon.

A hand lingered in the air, wavering for a heartbeat, before she quickly leaned into him, not even giving him a chance to stop her even if he wanted to. "You idiot..."

Her embrace was tight, almost desperate as her arms wrapped around his torso. Charles’s body was solid, grounding, and for the first time in a long while, Zariya felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The Icebergan held him close, her face pressed against his chest. "I’m fine," she whispered, the words muffled against his shirt. "I've just…gone through a lot, that’s all."

Zariya wouldn't let go, not right away. There was something comforting about having him close again and so she'd attempt to hold him as long as she could. Luckily, there was nobody else to see her this way. The last thing she needed was for people to assume she had gone soft, or worst.

Charles had always been a steady presence in her life, even when absent, and now in this moment, she felt the flood of emotions she had been holding back. “I’ve been busy,” she said after a beat, her voice soft but steady. “ I came to Fiore and built Akudama Syndicate alongside people I thought I could trust but...that fell apart, and I had to pick up the pieces. Dahlia and this city are nearly mine now.” Zariya pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "and soon I'll take back what we've lost, little by little.”

Speaking of Vali--or any of the tragedies that fell upon her family-- was never an easy thing for her, so she couldn't bring up the subject of his death. Her older brother, the first Viking to settle in Fiore, was a man she knew none could ever live up to. He'd often play with Charles and Zariya when they were young, and now all that remained of him was those memories. It'd been so long since his death that she'd almost forgotten the sound of his voice.

The Queenpin's fingers moved to brush the spot where she had smacked him, almost apologetically. “You… you look good. I missed your stupid face.” The smirk softened into something more genuine, a rare moment of warmth slipping through her usual guarded exterior. “How have you been?”

The Desiertan Icebergan stood there, Charles’ words floating between them, but she didn’t kept her response brief. "You should consider yourself blessed," she nodded curtly with a gentle twinkle in her eye, the familiar playfulness bubbling up inside her. Zariya wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much his compliment meant. She knew how she looked, and she knew he did too. But there was no need to stroke his ego further. The dialogue between them felt like an unspoken game, the kind they used to play when they were younger, hiding and seeking in the frozen forests of Iceberg. Her chest tightened as the memories washed over her.

They had been children then, but fiercely competitive, chasing each other through snowdrifts, hunting game together like the future warriors they were meant to be. The stakes had always been high, but never as high as now. And never had she felt the weight of his absence so much until this very moment. He had grown, just as she had. But still, that boy who would dive into the snow to tackle her, laughing in triumph, was there in his eyes.

“I’ve had no choice but to stay busy,” Zariya finally said, her voice steady but soft, her gaze locking onto his as if to ground herself in the present. “A foreign woman trying to survive in a country that sees her as an outsider can’t afford to sit still.If I don't work, I die. Even this event is work for me. ” Her tone was firm but laced with a bit of melancholy, as she reflected on the years she spent navigating the treacherous social and criminal waters of Fiore.

The Vampiress let the weight of her words linger before shifting gears, the tension breaking with a sly smile. "But you, Charles," she teased, her lips curving into a smirk, “doing a job for a Fiorian noble? I would’ve never seen that coming.” She gave a soft, incredulous laugh. Her amusement danced in her eyes as she leaned back slightly, looking him over, trying to picture him, of all people, working under a Fiorian noble's thumb.

The truth was, she couldn’t. He had always been too independent, too proud. "Did they at least pay you enough to put up with their nonsense?" she added, the teasing edge still in her voice, though her gaze softened. Slowly she began to walk away from the frame she gazed upon, hoping that Charles would follow suit and perhaps  enjoy the other art pieces. It was good to have him here, to share a moment that felt so familiar yet so far from the world they used to know.