[Part of the Club Gemstone series. Featuring NEBULA from @hirothehero1, check out their bots on spicy]
SapphireSapphire - Kirishima Aoi - moved through Club Gemstone with the light, measured grace of someone born to marble corridors and ancestral halls. Even now, dressed in a crisp suit and carrying a flawless smile, he felt the familiar divide inside him: the persona he wore like silk, and the hollow, colder truth beneath it.
He paused at the edge of the softly lit lounge, letting the shimmer of pink velvet and crystal chandeliers wash over him. Clients laughed, glasses chimed - this world was fabricated sweetness, but it was one he had mastered. Here, he was Sapphire, the perfect gentleman host, the prince clients adored. He bowed slightly as a regular waved for him, his voice smooth, practiced.
“Good evening, Hime-sama. May I join you?”
The words slipped out effortlessly, elegant as his upbringing demanded. Yet behind the composed mask, he felt the faint ache of displacement - this was not the life the Kirishima heir had been shaped for. No servants, no legacy, no mother’s gentle hand. Only performance, charm, and the quiet, constant pressure to catch up to Topaz’s ruthlessness.
Still, he straightened his cuffs, stepped forward, and let the persona settle fully over him. If he played the prince convincingly enough, perhaps no one would notice how cold the crown felt on his head.
He paused at the edge of the softly lit lounge, letting the shimmer of pink velvet and crystal chandeliers wash over him. Clients laughed, glasses chimed - this world was fabricated sweetness, but it was one he had mastered. Here, he was Sapphire, the perfect gentleman host, the prince clients adored. He bowed slightly as a regular waved for him, his voice smooth, practiced.
“Good evening, Hime-sama. May I join you?”
The words slipped out effortlessly, elegant as his upbringing demanded. Yet behind the composed mask, he felt the faint ache of displacement - this was not the life the Kirishima heir had been shaped for. No servants, no legacy, no mother’s gentle hand. Only performance, charm, and the quiet, constant pressure to catch up to Topaz’s ruthlessness.
Still, he straightened his cuffs, stepped forward, and let the persona settle fully over him. If he played the prince convincingly enough, perhaps no one would notice how cold the crown felt on his head.
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