Thomas’s Book Club: The Sapphire Consort
Date: 2026-03-07 22:03
(Thomas’s Book Club: The Sapphire Consort)
[Sat Mar 7 2026]
In Study Area/span/span>The study area occupies a generous corner of the ground floor, furnished with
heavy oak tables arranged in neat rows beneath tall windows that admit
filtered daylight through aged glass. Each table accommodates six readers
comfortably, with green-shaded banker’s lamps providing pools of warm light
across the polished wood surfaces. Built-in shelves line the walls from floor
to the vaulted ceiling, their dark wood laden with reference volumes and
leather-bound texts whose spines show centuries of handling. The air carries
the distinctive scent of old paper and binding glue, while the thick
carpeting muffles footsteps and the occasional scrape of chair legs. Near the
eastern wall, a peculiar draft rises from an ornate iron grate set into the
floor, carrying with it the faint rustle of turning pages from somewhere far
below, though no amount of peering through the decorative metalwork reveals
the source. Brass plaques beside each shelf section bear catalog numbers in a
system that seems to shift subtly when observed indirectly, and certain
volumes appear to have migrated between visits, though the librarians insist
nothing has been moved./span/span>It is about 50F(10C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At High and Woodcrest/span/span>Horace enters, cleaned up from his normal appearance, even if he is still brutishly ugly. He finds a seat and takes it, silently flipping through the pages.
Walking in with a smile on his face, Jasper turns to his bag, pulling the cover open and grabbing a novel from it before he closes it. He then looks at the group and lifts his hand in a wave while he takes a seat at the table.
Mercy tiptoes in with the novel already clutched in hand, throwing a shifty-eyed look around the room before wordlessly taking a seat at the tables by Jasper and Horace.
When Mercy arrives, Seraphina watches, and there is a brief nod given the younger woman in some acknowledgement. She is seated a good few seats away from Thomas, and somewhere near to the other men. Her own book is pristine and lays unopened before her. She might have just picked the copy up.
“Miss Matlock,” Thomas greets Mercy. “Mr. Meadows.” Jasper. “Jim, Sera,” he says. “I know at least Obie said he was coming, too, so we can give a few more minutes…” He glances back at Seraphina for a moment before he nods to Horace. “Does everyone have a copy?” he wonders.
Mercy braces her elbows on the table after setting the book down, fingers interlaced to create a platform for her chin to rest on. From there her eyes drift back and forth between Thomas and Seraphina with more pointed interest. “Hawke. Hale.” She greets in turn.
Mercy says “Think Jim ain’ got one of his own.“
Thomas tells Horace, “There’s a rack of them in the atrium, if you’d like to grab one.”
Horace returns the nod before holding up his copy, a fresh copy, and says, in a flat tone that might be perfectly serious, “I would like the record to reflect that Mercy has made me attend under duress.” He then flashes the faintest of smiles
Mercy snort-scoffs at the accusation. “Like he ain’ been losin’ sleep from excitement to discuss this SPICE.”
“Obie wanted to check in with Teagan, I wouldn’t really count on him being her.” Seraphina remarks. “Or maybe he’ll talk her into coming.” She turns her attention away from Thomas after having met his gaze for a moment of his several long ones. She says to Horace, “I’m sure it will be enlightening.”
“Well!” Thomas says. “Some people may suggest a romance novel — this is what people call ‘romantasy’ — isn’t worth discussing, but books like the Sapphire Consort are consistently the top-selling, top-earning books in the world,” he says. “So even if you turn your nose up…” He glances back over at Seraphina. “There’s obviously something going on here.”
“Everybody love a scandal.” Mercy murmurs, though her weary tone isn’t enough to cover up the fact that she’s very obviously one of said people.
“I don’t turn my nose up to reading a little romance smut.” Seraphina says to Thomas at the names pointed look at her. “Do you really want me to say what it is I turn my nose up at?”
Mercy quiets down and leans forward with a little more intrigue, once again peering between Thomas and Seraphina.
“Indeed,” Jasper replies, keeping his smile as he turns to look at Thomas. “And they always say that sex sells.”
“There was a Facebook meme going around earlier about fae princes being every girl’s dream,” Horace mutters as he tilts his head slightly towards Mercy, “Mercy, your thoughts on Fae princes as the ideal lover being relaxed with….” He flips open to a page, “Tyson the alpha wolf.”
Horace says “Replaced with, rather.“
“Honestly,” Thomas says to Seraphina. “This book is more than a little smutty.” He glances at Seraphina. “Do we want to hear?” he wonders, before he turns to look at Mercy and Jasper. “It sure does,” he says. “And Jim’s got the plot! Miss Matlock, do tell us your thoughts.”
Sitting back in her chair, Seraphina plucks at her dress, lifting it a bit as she crosses her legs. “Be glad I didn’t broadcast it in chat earlier, I suppose,” she tells Thomas, then leaning forward to reach for the book she’d left on the table to flip through the pages to find a passage.
Mercy now leans back instead, a hand already gesticulating in the air to emphasize her profound insight on the subject. “I mean it like comparin’ apples an’ oranges, ayeah? Some people love the hoity toity polished prince, an’ some of us prefer the hardened, rugged-” The hand clenches into a fist. “-battle scarred soldier who had to fight fer everythin’ he got tooth and claw. He more realistic, relatable, an’ uh- you know, different type of bedroom scenes typically.” She adds the last bit more quietly.
“A different type of bedroom scene,” Thomas murmurs to Mercy. “Oh, please, do expound.”
Horace nods once to Thomas then turns his attention back to Mercy
“Oh, uh..” Mercy walked right into this one. Her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth while she’s mulling over her answer, and avoiding eye contact with anyone. “Like, you know. The prince is romantic, sultry, more about vulnerability an’ connection an’ all that emotional shit. But then TYSON-” Enthusiasm overrides shyness now. “He ain’ give a fuck ’bout none of that cause he an ANIMAL. Elira’s fancy expensive dresses? Torn off, thrown in the dirt, cause the only thing that matter to him is gettin’ every obstacle between him an’ her outta the way.”
“Though he starts out as the Prince’s lover, doesn’t he?” Thomas asks Mercy. Broadening to look at Seraphina, Horace, and Jasper, he asks, “What does that say about him? He’s equal opportunity in his desires… And if you turn to page 200, it’s -awfully- smutty, isn’t it, with all three of them?”
Mercy slaps one palm down on the table loudly, leans fully over it, and jabs a finger from the other hand in the air at Thomas in a manner that is maybe too obviously learned from her mentor. “It means he insatiable, he gonna take what he wants an’ fuck anybody who try to stop him.”
There is a look given Thomas, and it isn’t one of being pleased. Seraphina flips to the page, but doesn’t read it. The look is likely off of what Mercy has said. “How -familiar-,” she murmurs under her breath.
“I wonder,” Horace says opening the book and then skimming briefly before asking, somewhat rhetorically, “Is this what a spit roasting is? I hadn’t ever imagined one so… Acrobatic.”
“He really knows the sweet spots,” Jasper speaks, blushing as he holds his book. “Tyson’s hardcore. Like, well, I- I mean, one would imagine being Elira or the prince in bed.”
“I’m not sure if ‘Tyson held the prince down, growling as he thrust in deeply — again and again, as Elira watched, her cheeks pink as her prince’s plaintive moans filled the bedchamber’ is what I would call a “sweet spot”, Mr. Meadows,” Thomas comments to Jasper. “Though it is hardcore.”
“Definitely a act of dominance,” Horace mutters. “The wolf claiming ownership of both the prince and the pretty girl.”
Mercy can easily pick up Seraphina’s comment and slides an eye towards her, with a comment to follow. “An’ thas’ why it important to separate fiction from reality, while only indulgin’ in the former.” Then she shoves herself in closer to Horace to get a look at the page he’s on, skimming it. “.. Huh, ayeah I think thas’ what that is. Seems like a lot to take in if yer the middle piece.”
“I see,” Jasper quickly nods towards Thomas. “The prince does love it as well. No wonder the price was moaning loud.”
“I mean like, end of the day nothin’ beats the enemies-to-lovers setup so m’hard stannin’ fer Telira with the prince as filler. Kinda literally in some scenes.” Mercy states to no one in particular, just wanting her opinion known.
“So what is it about these books that make them sell so well?” Thomas wonders.
“I -jus’- said why, least in my opinion. That an’ the fact that it kinda offers the best of both worlds, creatin’ an interestin’ contrast between luxury an’ a life lived in service to another. The polished an’ the crude, the prince an’ the beast.” A dreamy sigh escaped Mercy before she can contain it, and she busies herself in some of the pages of her own book copy right after.
“Women like the idea of being swept of their feet by some mysterious, rugged figure, so that she can tame them.” Seraphina says. “And when it is two, she feels more special since they must fight for her. She is the one who has the control, even if he’s ripping her clothing off.”
“It is interesting,” Thomas agrees with Mercy and Seraphina. “For all that Tyson is the most — ‘rugged’ — of the trio, he is also the one who is in service.”
Horace looks between Seraphina and Mercy, “Do women really enjoy having their clothing torn?”
Mercy clicks her tongue thoughtfully. “I ain’ finished the book, so no spoilers, but- is it maybe that Elira ain’ tamin’ Tyson, but rather she helpin’ to bring -out- the rugged, primal side of him more by pushin’ his limits, makin’ him fight fer the prince but also question what it is -he- wants?” She muses aloud, then peers at Horace with a slight, crooked grin. “Depends, but there’s somethin’ to be said fer the urgency an’ utter lack of fucks hightenin’ the mood.”
“Only a few or some women,” Jasper murmurs towards Horace. “Although the downside is that your clothes would get ruined and need to be fixed.”
Thomas tells Mercy, “It’s the first in the series, never fear.”
Mercy says “M’naked like eighty percent of the time anyhow the hell I care about clothes fer.“
Horace nods to Jasper in a knowing way. “I would think slicing would be the preferred option. Preferably along existing seams with a sharp blade so that they can be easily mended.”
“No, we don’t like having our clothing torn…” Seraphina says. “We pay a lot for our outfits, to look pretty and to catch the eye of the rugged mysterious man, afterall.” She adds, “I suppose it can be a little exciting, when it is that you just can’t wait. But generally? No.”
Mercy flicks a brief glance towards Thomas, though her nose is still buried in the book. “‘The prince is mine to guard’ he snarled, his golden eyes flickerin’ with a primal heat. His growl wasn’t jus’ a sound, it was a vibration Elira felt in her very marrow of her bones. He loomed over her, smellin’ of cedarwood, rain an’ predatory musk that made her pulse quicken’.. god damn.” She murmurs after reading that excerpt aloud.
“It’s surprisingly good,” Thomas admits to Mercy. “I haven’t read the next book yet, but… It’s called ‘the Sapphire Prisoner’, so I have thoughts.”
“Thas’ why you dress in the cheap shit you ain’ care about when you feelin’ frisky.” Mercy suggests to Seraphina offhandedly, a vigorous nod offered to Thomas. “.. Ayeah, it is. An’ I get the impression the second book gonna be even spicier. More turmoil, maybe some darker themes..”
“It has to be the right -mood-,” Seraphina adds to Horace, “As to whether we get excited that the clothes we spend all our time to look good in get torn. There is a company that sells a hundred dollar panties and hundred fifty to two hundred bras…. I’m not saying that I necessarily have to worry about the cost of it, but –”
“Probably with a hint of bondage too,” Jasper says with a blushing face. “It does have ‘prisoner’ in the title.
Seraphina nods faintly to Mercy. “I guess. But then there are people who will comment about how cheap your outfits are, too.”
“I was hoping for Ruby Consort but what do I know?” Horace says with a shrug then offers back to the group as a whole, “However Sapphic Prisoner does lead one to believe that whips and leather will be involved.” He nods to Jasper as he gets there at the same time.
“And then call you a slut if you tell them that they just get ripped off anyway.” Seraphina also suggests.
Thomas coughs. “Sapphire, not Sapphic,” he says to Horace.
“Probably a little sapphic too.” Seraphina reports.
Mercy points at Seraphina.
“I don’t think you look cheap,” Thomas tells Seraphina. “And I have strong, positive feelings about how your clothes look on the floor.”
Seraphina gives Thomas a little look, and does not say anything to him about it, but her look — is a little bland.
Horace mentions to Seraphina, “I am a remove them gently and fold them neatly, kind of man.” He looks back to Thomas and considers him silently for a moment, “Right. Of course.”
Eyes pass over Thomas, to Seraphina, then back again and Mercy casually, gently, asks, “Y’all sortin’ through some shit?”
“They do look good on the floor…. but that is neither here nor there.” Seraphina suddenly cannot help herself with a laugh at Horace’s comment. “In the very heat of the moment, you’re one of those: Hold on… I need to fold my shirt? I bet you keep your socks on too.”
“Things are fine,” Thomas tells Mercy, when they obviously are not.
Horace blinks twice at Seraphina. “I, well, yes. I often shower before and after as well.”
Mercy has sensed weakness, or intrigue, maybe both; either way her interest has been piqued and she’s honing in on this quarrel between the two. “Ahuh..” She answers Thomas, unconvinced, turning her attention to Seraphina instead. “So if torn clothin’ ain’ yer thing, what -would- be yer idea of an extra spicy encounter?”
“Good hygiene is necessary.” Seraphina nods to Horace, but she’s still looking rather amused.
Something Horace says briefly prompts Mercy to peer at him through the corner of her eye, teeth flashing in a knowing, devilish grin.
Seraphina tilts her head to the side at Mercy, claiming to the woman in all manners of innocence in her southern draw, “I’m not a spicy girl. That’s why I read the spicy things.”
Mercy performs an expertly slow blink while her eyes are on Seraphina. Once again, unconvinced. “I dunno, y’all seemed to enjoy the photo shoot some.”
Thomas shoots Seraphina a look with raised brows. “Oh, never spicy,” he tells her.
Horace glances at Mercy then just leans back to watch the lupin inquisition.
“I didn’t say that torn clothing isn’t my thing… I mean, mostly it isn’t. But it has its time and space for a good, healthy relationship.” Seraphina murmurs, thoughtfully. “And if not relationship … at least good sex, or even, hate fucks.” She rolls her eyes at Mercy. “I don’t know that I would say I enjoyed it.”
Mercy nods along to Seraphina with the occasional attentive ‘mm’ and ‘mmhm’. “An’ what does a healthy relationship look like? Never been in one, so this might be useful information fer me goin’ forward.” To the matter of the photo shoot, she lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug and puts her palms up. “Fair, fair, jus’ mean I figure you at least a little adventurous under the right circumstances. Kinda like Elira, even got the whole strong female lead an’ long dark hair thing goin’ on.”
“Elira does have a habit of getting — what is it Jim said?” Thomas asked, flipping pages. “Getting ‘spit-roasted,” he shares with Mercy, even though she’s talking about Seraphina.
“Elira must be one lucky girl,” Jasper muses as he opens his book. “Really living the dream when you’re in love with a prince and a werewolf.”
“There is a lot of spit roasting going on,” Horace says dryly, watching the back and forth between Mercy, Seraphina, and Thomas. “I kept waiting for the inevitable pinning… and then it happened. And again.”
“I dunno that bein’ spit-roasted by two dicks the -dream-, least not fer everyone, but definitely havin’ two strong men at yer beck an’ call got its allure.” Mercy offers to Jasper, adding in, “An’ one of them is rich too. Like girl, share.”
Seraphina raises a brow at Thomas. “Excuse me?” Maybe she just didn’t hear right. Maybe she did. “Anyhow, this is a book club, not chat about my sex life and my adverousness in the bedroom.” She crosses her arms over her bosom, lifting them lightly with the pressure.
Thomas’s eyes linger for some moment on Seraphina. “No,” he says. “I suppose it isn’t.” He turns to look back to Jasper, Mercy, and Horace. “Well,” he says. “We’ve been at it for an hour and a half, now, and it’s nearly midnight. Any last thoughts on the book?”
Mercy holds her book in both hands, peering down at the sensual cover art then back up at Thomas, the questioning slipping out before she can consider it. “Do you think the portrayal of Tyson is too romanticized? Is it possible fer a werewolf to find love an’ their place like he did?”
“I wonder if they will make a movie,” Horace genuinely wonders as he slides his copy of the book into his coat pocket before glancing to Mercy and adding, without thinking himself, “There is a place for everyone, Mercy. If you are patient enough.”
Thomas tells Mercy firmly, “It’s possible for a werewolf to find love, Miss Matlock.”
Seraphina smiles a little at Mercy. “A little tension, yes. But, this too shall pass, I am sure. I just need myself a few days, is all.” She unfolds her arms, relaxing a bit. “All book werewolves are high fantasy romanticized, really. This of True Blood and Joe … whatshisface. Manzara? M, something. I don’t really remember his name, I mostly just know his face from that show, and then from Magic Mike.” she mentions to Mercy, “But .., even in real life, werewolves can be hot, afterall.”
“Interesing,” Jasper lets out a hum. “Perhaps someday…”
“Man I hope so, but you jus’ -know- they gonna cast Tyson all wrong..” Mercy mumbles back to Horace, pursing her lips a little in delayed embarrassment for her question that intensifies when Thomas and Seraphina also weigh in. She ducks her head. “True, ayeah, you all got a point.. Jus’ in a lotta lore an’ media they always end up, you know, alone. Or dead.”
Mercy says “The princes never do. Maybe thas’ why they more often the dream man.“
“You also have the werewolves like the wolves in American Werewolf in London, sooooo–” Seraphina muses toward Mercy, shrugging. “The prince is the one who normally saves the fair maiden, not the rogue. Unless the trop is that they are one in the same. Like Tangled.”
Seraphina probably said trope.
“Perhaps we need a film industry here in Haven,” Thomas tells Mercy. “Then we can get it right.” He glances at Seraphina. “Not that we don’t have our own little film industry here, I suppose.”
Seraphina says “Do we?“
“Remus Lupin got Tonks after all,” Horace says with a firm nod. “And she was a Metaphormagus.”
Mercy says “Not that I- uh, you know from like readin’ the synopsiseses.“
“You read the cliff notes to a smut book?” Seraphina asks Mercy.
“There is Harry Potter smut, but I don’t think you can get it bound in trade paperback,” Thomas says.
Jasper says “On Harry Potter, I mean.“
“Well, I have a long walk to Bayview…” Seraphina says, rising from her chair, and taking her book with her, storing it away into a bag.
“I can drive you,” Thomas tells Seraphina.
“I’ll walk.” Seraphina tells Thomas, picking her coat from the back of the chair to sling it on.”
Thomas turns to Jasper, Mercy, and Horace. “Thank you all for coming.”
“Imagine my unending disappointment when the first witch I met who tried to kill me didn’t scream avacado toast at me,” Horace says dryly as he stands himself. “Thank you all for a wonderful evening. I will try to make it to the next one.”
Mercy watches the exchange between Thomas and Seraphina with as much interest as if it were a chapter in the book. “Nigh’, you two..”
Seraphina says “Its Leviosaaaah.“
Mercy tries but that drawl be thick.
Seraphina turns to step out into the night with a little wave to Horace, Jasper, and Mercy.
Mercy returns the wave.
Horace makes a flick and swish motion with his wrist, saying, “I can at least get the accent right.”
Mercy watches her leave, then hones her eyes back in on Thomas, curiosity burning.
“What?” Thomas asks Mercy. “Things are not — perfect,” he acknowledges to her, rising.
Horace completely stoically responds, “Five and a half inches is a perfectly respectable length.”
Mercy furrows her brow a touch, the admission encouraging her to actually utilize some empathy for once. “Sorry to hear, hope it ain’ nothin’ that can’t be fixed with a nice gesture. Or I guess a new tear-off wardrobe.”
Mercy holds back a snort after Horace’s comment, just barely.
“Some kind of gesture, at least,” Thomas tells Mercy. “Good-night, Miss Matlock,” he says.