Page 99 of Iris
A thug, according to the guys.
A savior, according to some of the girls.
A man from the Lower Side. One who delivers booze. Can you even imagine?
But, Hivemind, that ain’t all the tea. It gets hotter, spicier. Spilled chai if you will.
The man in question works at the Black Briar bar, a place of thrills and dirty stories of the deliciously wicked kind.
It would be FAB-U-LOUS is that’s all the dirt that’s gone and got dished.
But it isn’t.
People are unhappy. People want to mix and mingle and not stick to archaic rules the Monarch, that decaying cake of a woman, has set up to control the masses.
Some people don’t want to stick to Omega and Alpha. Some people want to just love one another and so, if you’ve been paying attention to fliers around town and news filtering in from the mainland, that people want change.
And rumor has it, Iris’s tall, handsome type is part of that.
Here.
In Sabine City!
And Iris is mixed up with those rebels who want to take the Monarch down.
Delicious and hot, just for you!
Yes, a member of the upper class, an Omega, is all caught up with the lower levels of society. She’s chosen them over her own.
Is that right? Wrong? Or the start of a revolution, baby?
One thing I know is it’s pure scandal.
Maybe we need change, but she’s chosen to do it at the start of a Season when she wasn’t chosen Luxe.
Sour grapes?
Or an interest in making our world better?
I think I know what that old rust bucket and her equally old and out of touch cronies at the Council think: she isn’t.
But politics… Boring, right?
I’m right in wanting to know if she’s doing anything untoward with this man…or is it men? Because he works at the bar with a dreamboat of dubious intent, the charming Black Briar himself…
Even if she’s not doing anything, why has she turned down all dates? Why does she dress like she doesn’t want to be part of the Season?
Does she think now her sister’s mated to Mr. Wonderful and Famous himself she doesn’t have to try?
Are her punk boots too big?
And worse, is she showing up and playing the freeze-dried Monarch of a dusty, out of touch Council?
I don’t know! Cast your theories, place your bets…
And one more thing.
Word on the street is the Council put a price on my head.
