-- I'm falling out of time

elion " eli " fleming. twenty-three. prince of aura. gifted artist & swordsman @CAVALRYHQ.

[distcntdreams]

just wanted to say I’m still around! still working, I don’t have a lot of time to focus on writing except in the early morning and evening. my mental health hasn’t been too great, but i think i’m hitting an upswing, so I should be around soon. thanks for your patience.

[distcntdreams]

prxncess-willow‌:

She nodded as he spoke, knowing all of what he was saying was true: most people did not think like her, especially when it came to war. Those in power loved that they had power, and a lot of the time that blinded them. The young Princess had seen many of her fellow royals make terrible decisions because of their thirst for power - this war was just another instance of that. “I also see why it is used, I just wish it did not have to be that way.” She said with a sigh, gaze following him as he filled his basket with the various items he assumed would be needed for a stew. She cracked an amused smile, pushing herself up from her perch to join him.

Her hand reached over to grab his basket, tipping the contents onto the table that had been set up in the centre of the tent. A leather pouch lay upon it, unravelling to reveal knives, engraved with the Auran crest. She began to peel the potatoes, carefully cutting the skin off of them before throwing them into the pot of boiling water, followed by the carrots and leeks. “I often helped out in the kitchen growing up. We had the most wonderful cooks in the castle - they always saved me an extra mince pie for dessert. When my mother and father took me in I felt quite alone. Before they offered me my title there were many people that disagreed with them taking me in.” She continued to peel, peeking at the Prince every few moments in her peripherals. “They made me feel like I belonged, down in the kitchens. Of course it did not take long for the rest of the Kingdom to accept me for their Princess, although I do still get the odd dirty look, ‘Ward’ whispered under their breaths.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug - the disapproval of others had not mattered to her much as she grew older. “I learned how to make some of the most exquisite dishes. Stew is one of the easiest and, if you’ll allow me to brag, has become my specialty. I bring the poor a big pot three times a week back in Eden - the children love it.” She chuckled softly, throwing the last of the vegetables into the boiling water. “You did not join in when you visited the kitchens? I presume it was the smell that drew you in?” She asked, wooden spoon stirring the pot every few moments.

Elion did not protest when she took the basket and poured them onto the table. He followed her, snagging a slightly smaller knife, and began to mimic her motions. He had a bit of trouble with the shape of the potato, each stroke either too hard or soft, leading in an array of peels about the table and floor of the tent. It wasn’t until the last few strokes a groove set it, like gently sharpening a piece of charcoal. The carrots and leeks went over much easier and he found his head tilting, his tongue poke just slightly through his teeth as he focused on keeping the delicate pieces on the table while listening to her recount her childhood. He could remember when the whispers of her first fluttered through Aura. A ward was not unheard of, but being named princess? It had ruffled more than a few of the royal feathers. He’d always found it amusing really. It wasn’t as if he or any of the other princes or princesses earned their titles. They just so happened to be born blessed or cursed depending on how one looked at it. She had no more of a choice.

In that moment he could remember one of the first times he saw that streak of blazing red hair. He couldn’t have been more than seven, it must have been since he’d only just begun his swordsmanship lessons. A wedding, one filled with extravagance, who’s he could not recall, but he remembered his father. Chastising him for barreling into another royal as he eagerly practiced his lunges. It had been a scene, for his father was not the softest man nor was Elion thickest skinned of his ilk. He spent a large part of the festivities alone, a tradition he was not unfamiliar with, aside from one breath of reprieve. A flicker of long red hair, tied in a thick braid, large expressive brown eyes and a lovely strawberry tart. The exchange was quick, the length of a sheepish smile and no more than a second later, the boy king was dragging her away and back toward the festivities. He was left alone once more with the damp sleeves of his tunic, though there were no more silent tears. Just a sickly sweet taste of berries as he focused his eyes on the sky above, daydreaming of a day he’d leave it all behind.

Elion blinked, the memory fading to nothing more than a small smile as he dumped the last of his portion into the pot. It took him a moment to register her words and a soft flush of strawberry lined his cheeks. “My apologizes, M’lady. I believe the battles have made my mind weary, which makes it likely to wander,” he admitted, watching her a moment before piecing her words back together. Oh yes-- the kitchens. “The smells were always so delicious, but I stayed for the company. Believe it or not, I am not the most social of my siblings. I could spend hours with my quill and parchment or drawing designs in spilt flour. I minded my business and they conducted theirs. We coexisted quite well,” he mused, reaching to take over the stirring for a moment. 

“I am quite eager to taste these exquisite dishes. Cooking is another form art and I like to consider myself quite well rounded. Perhaps, you may teach me a few during our time together,” his brow cocked, glancing in her direction, a tinge of curiosity in his eyes, “Would you happen to have a recipe for strawberry tarts?”

[distcntdreams]

prxncess-willow‌:

She could not help the blush that blossomed across her cheeks as he brushed her hair back, the feeling of his fingertips grazing her skin sending goosebumps up her arms. She did not feel beautiful in the slightest, but his words certainly provided some sort of comfort. Though she could not help her head from shaking in answer, gazing up at him through her lashes. “I think the effects of war are starting to take a toll on your eyesight,” She said with a soft chuckle, “But I thank you for your kind words nonetheless.” Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach, the smile on her face seemingly plastered there for the time being, despite the chaos that was taking place outside of their tent. 

They both looked worse for wear; both dampened from the fogs that seemed to creep their way across the battlefields, all sign of sunshine hidden behind the foreboding grey, cloudy skies. It was times like this that she missed the earthy feel of her home kingdom, where when it rained it was welcomed as it watered the trees and plants that surrounded the castle. Here, on the encampments, the rain felt as though it was mocking them, a reflection of the horror they were currently living in. A chill was set deep within their bones, the men who spent their days fighting unable to get warm as they returned to their tents, wanting nothing more than to sleep away the memories of their fight. 

She was grateful for his willingness to help, an attribute that set him apart from many royal men she knew. Often, husbands expected their wives to be at their beck and call - Elion was not like that. Willow knew he saw them as equals, and it was something she was very thankful for. Her worst fear was that she would marry a man that had no regard for her at all, but rather pushed her to the side and expected her to be his servant of sorts. She nodded her head in response, unable to hide the smile that pulled at her plump lips. Her gaze followed him as he made his way around the tent, starting the pot of water before slowly peeling off his armour. She could not look away as his shoulders came into view, the hard muscles emphasized in the shadows of the firelight. 

“I am filled with worry,” She said with a sigh, her eyes peeling away from his exposed skin and returning to meet his own gaze. “I have never been a believer of war. I do not see how violence is meant to solve anything - what is there to win when both sides lose so many people?” Her words were pointed, this topic always having been something she was passionate about. “What is the point of killing so many people and breaking apart so many families. I know words cannot fix anything, but I cannot help but think some sort of compromise can be decided upon, rather than turning to swords and blood.” A pale hand raked through the roots of her tangled hair, lips pursed. “How can people be so emotionless, so disconnected from their souls to take a King and behead him in front of his Kingdom, just to start a war? I do not understand it and I do not think I ever will.”

Elion shook his head, but said nothing. He’d meant his words. Everyone in the four Kingdoms revered her beauty. Princess Willow the graceful. The poised. The ethereal. And she could be all of those things, especially the mornings he caught her amongst the royal garden, the morning’s first light blessing her with an almost other worldly glow. But Elion couldn’t help but feel fortunate to see her in such a different light. Or rather, for her to allow him to see her in such a state. So many of the royals made such a fuss about appearances, even in the most weary of times. He understood to an extent. You could control that, whereas a war you could not. Willow seemed to embraced the vulnerability and shared it with him, which he appreciated.

That and the small smile that would sometimes grace her features. He’d seen in less since news of the war though he’d made it a mission of his to evoke it as much as possible. A light in the darkness, a purpose, to continue pushing him forward in this hellscape. Starting the water, Elion struggled with his armor for a moment, teeth gritting as he pulled it over his head and tossed it into the corner. He’d never been a large man, his body was lean and his muscle toned but spry. It lent him to a style of combat that valued speed and precision over strength and in this war, this battle especially, there had been very little room for that. He could not sprint. Only endure and as his body was finally exposed to the warmth of the fire, it was all he could do not to buckle.  

“Those that start wars do not think the way you do, my Princess,” he replied with a soft sigh, “They find motivation in fear, in the crushing despair and anger that loss brings. Love and compassion required time and investment. They require vulnerability. Why spend so much time and energy when the alternative requires nothing more than spilled blood? And those that defend...what other choice do they have? Words cannot still a blade on its own,” Elion busied himself as he spoke, glancing around for ingredients that may be of use and collecting them in a small basket. Meat. Carrots. Leeks. “That is not to say I agree with war, I have never been partial...but I can see why it is used. It is but a means to an end, one I hope will be found soon,” For a moment, he thought of his brother and siblings. He had not seen Nicholas since his arrival and though he knew his brother had done his best to stave off the lingering threats, he wondered how he felt now. Was he regretting not choosing sides sooner? Or was he confident in his stance, out there trying to resolve this with the least casualties possible?

Returning to her side, Elion sat, a small sheepish grin donning his lips as he looked over at her. “As I said, I would like to assist but I’ll need some guidance. I have never fixed a stew. I have seen it, in childhood I often stuck by the kitchens, but I am at a loss when it comes to what lies next...”

[distcntdreams]

prxncess-willow‌:

—

The encounter with her husband felt as though it had happened days ago - the rest of her time on the front lines of the battlefield leaving her with not even a spare moment to breathe. She could not count the number of men (and a few brave woman) she had tended to throughout her day, her hands caked in the dried blood of their wounds. It had taken all her strength to remain positive in such a negative atmosphere, where the lives of her people were being lost. So she could not stop the sigh that left her lips the moment she passed through the canvas opening to Prince Elion’s tent, her tired body plopping down onto the first surface she spotted. Her head lulled above her knees, face hidden in her dirt and blood crusted hands. Willow had never looked this disgruntled, her normally well-tamed hair frizzy at the roots, her once well-groomed curls tangled upon one another. She did not even care that her husband could walk in at any moment and see her like this: coming apart at the seams, the complete opposite of what was once her put together self. Her shoulders slumped, her dress damp from the fog and her spirits considerably more down than they were when she arrived at the encampment. 

Not to mention the worry that was eating away at the back of her mind - for her husband, her father, her best friend. Her people. What was to come of this? They had won Redwood today which had been a victory that was much needed, but there was still a long way to go. All the young Princess could do was hope that it would all work out in the end. But even she, in her neverending positivity, was having her doubts.

It wasn’t until the canvas opened again that she looked up from her hands, her small body rising from her stoop. Her Prince stepped inside, his face stained with the same substances of her own hands. He looked tired, but his eyes still shone something bright - something she had found herself noticing more and more as their time together expanded. She raced forward, her hands reaching out to gently grab either side of his face, her own getting rather close as she inspected it. They slowly moved down to his shoulders, resting for a moment on the cut-open leather on his shoulder before moving down to his hands. “You’re alright,” She said breathlessly, instinctively wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. “Every time they brought someone down I was praying it would not be you.” She said softly, her eyes watering slightly as she pulled away. Willow had always been good at composing herself, but she had never been in a situation like this before. Her stance on war was not the same as most of the royals she knew - Dominic and her had disagreed on it for their entire life. To her, violence solved nothing. Now, she was in the very belly of it and she did not know what to think. “I meant to get a stew started so you’d have something warm to greet you upon your return. I suppose I got caught up in my thoughts.” She said, shaking her head slightly. “My mind is not itself today, it seems. You shed that armour and I’ll get something started, I think we both need something comforting at the moment.”

Before he could take a breath, Elion felt hands on the side of his face. He could feel the dry crusted substance, on he had grown familiar with. He didn’t flinch, mobility at all had been difficult and how he’d managed to stumble back to his tent was beyond his scope of comprehension. But he was here. Breathing. While so many of his brethren were not. Eli swallowed the thick lump in his throat, his arms wrapping around her waist as she finished her inspection. They hang loose, if only for the second it took him to gain composure and inhale, basking in her scent. He let it wrap around him, the familiarity more than a comfort in these times. It was comforting. It reminded him of the gardens of home and he let it engulf him despite the stain dampness and copper and held her tight against him.

“Of course, it takes more than to be rid of me, M’Lady,” he teased, his usually playful voice holding more exhaustion than anything else. Still the smirk found a way to his eyes even as she pulled back. His chest ached, seeing the gloss in her beautiful mahogany hues. More than dew but less than rain and he had to fight the urge to draw her in to kiss the softness of her cheeks and assure her that all is well. She was his wife, of course, and though some might have taken that as he could do with her as he pleased, Eli did not. He did not own her, not her mind, body or spirit. And even the lightest of gestures, he found himself questioning. He was not sure the level of their relationship. New but growing, the roots began to set, each day bringing them closer, though he wasn’t sure of pace or her comfort in it all.

So he reached, brushing the strands of her frazzled hair behind her ear, the sloth in his movements apparent as he looked into her eyes. “You look quite beautiful tonight, my Princess,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly as he retreated from her gaze to examine her. “Aside from the obvious stains, dare I say, even amongst war you are still one of the most beautiful creatures to grace our earth,” The words were sincere and he hoped to bright her spirits. They rang true and in all honesty he may have preferred her this way. Not weighted by the days woes, but unkempt, unapologetic, free if only for the moment.

He on the other hand, his hair stuck flat to his forehead from the day’s sweat, his face riddled in dirt and blood and only the gods knew what else-- he looked and felt like hell. His leathers were mostly intact, the the slit on his shoulder had begun to throb half way to the tent. The fire in his veins had quelled to nothing more than an ember, the raw now exposed with the cease of battle. Eli flexed his jaw, shaking his head, “Don’t be silly. We have both had a grueling day. Allow me to assist, for I shall be your hands if you give me guidance and you rest..,” as he spoke, he gestured to her spot when he’d come in and moved to make use of the small bucket of water in the corner. Hr rinsed his hands, though he still felt as if the may never be clean. It was a haunting thought but he refused to dwell on the darkness as he began to peel away the leather buckles of his armor. “...and tell me of your mind. Tell me the things that weigh on you so,”

[distcntdreams]

prxncess-willow‌:

Her gaze remained focus on the cloth in her hand, the fabric soaking up the blood fast. What had been a white handkerchief was now turning deep red in the spots she pressed to his shoulder, her movements soft as she wiped at the wound. She had been helping the injured from the moment she had left her tent this morning, managing to keep her emotions separate from her work. Until now, of course. As hard as Willow tried to have a hard exterior, how was she meant to feel when her own husband was facing the brunt of the war? 

Big brown eyes met his as he took her small hand in his, her touch on his shoulder easing up slightly. She had known that coming here would upset him - he had all but pleaded her to remain in Eden, far away from the danger of the battlefields. Her own father had practically gotten on his knees doing the same, wishing no harm upon his youngest daughter. What was she to do? What kind of person would she be had she stayed behind her castle walls while her people fought? That was not the kind of woman she wished to be. She had been lucky enough to receive the title of Princess and she was going to put that to use when it mattered most. 

Her head nodded at his words, her hand with the wet cloth briefly abandoning it’s post at his shoulder to gently caress his dirt-stained cheek. Her gaze locked on his for a moment longer, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of her lips at his kind words. “I promise,” She said softly, her hand dropping back to his shoulder. “As hard as it is to believe, I do not wish harm upon myself.” She said with a slight chuckle. “Perhaps this whole experience will urge you two to put your differences aside. You do both care for the same woman, after all.” Ever since Willow and Eli had gotten married his differences with Dominic had gotten worse - it was something she did not enjoy in the slightest, but something she was hoping she could change one day. “I feel the same about you. Do not be foolish out there. You must come home to me.” She said quietly, eyes flickering up to meet his once more. “Perhaps we would both feel better if I came back to your tent for the time being?” She asked, chewing on the inside of her cheeks. “Then we can both see that we are safe, at the end of the day.” 

Elion took long, even breaths in an attempt to regulate the pain as she pressed. It was not incredibly deep, but the location of the gash would cause his mobility some issue. As luck would have it, it wasn’t his dominate, so barring infection, he could make do. He sighed, tilting his head to watch his wife’s hand. Its steady stroke instinctive as if she’d done it hundreds of times before. It may have been a possibility considering how many wounded lay beneath the tents and yet it felt so bizarre to have her here with him. A woman he’d known in passing since childhood and married, tending to his battle wounds. It was an oddly intimate thing and he found himself buckling a little, his guard dropping as his chestnut eyes moved from her hands to her face.

Her eyes were expressive...some of the most he’d ever seen and the days leading up to the rebel siege, he’d found himself getting lost in their depths more and more often. Intoxicating things that drew him in like the rich earth of a winding forest path and there were times he found himself perfect content existing there, wandering. More often than not, however, he pulled back, sprinting down the trail...afraid of what lay beyond, a flush of pink lining his cheeks as he’d pretend to be daydreaming or engaged in other activity.

But now he held them, venturing in to gain some semblance of intent behind her insistence. She loved her people, her heart was bound to them, to the very ideal of virtue and humanity. So much so, she was willing to risk her own safety, perhaps her life, to give them hope and healing. It was a quality he envied. One he aspired to have more each day, despite the pangs of guilt it brought at his initial intent. To make his way through the battles and disappear. Being a prince of lesser station, it was not as if it would be difficult. His ‘death’ would free her, allow her to find the love he knew she wished for, the love she so deserved. And he would be... free. 

Those kind amber eyes, her warmth, her resolve...it stilled his wondering thoughts now and on the battlefield. The thought of her-- it kept his instinct and his cowardice at bay. Eli chuckled, finally breaking eye contact as she spoke her promise and spoke of the Boy King. “I’m not sure we ever will. I’m convinced the man is insufferable to anyone but you, my Princess,” Perhaps that was the problem. Ever since the wedding, Elion’s patience wore thinner and thinner. What he once let roll off like water from a ducks back, stuck like oil. “You mistake me for my brother. Foolishness is my middle name, but if you so wish, I will try to temper my fancies,” Elion replied, matching her tone with another light squeeze of her hand, the pace of his heart beat increasing at the idea. “I...would enjoy that immensely. I’ll send word to the Boy King, inform him of the adjustment,” Flashing her a small smile, he cleared his throat and took a quick look at his shoulder. 

“I think that may be the best that can be done until I’m able to peel these leathers off, but I believe I should be fine...thanks to your assistance of course,” Eli said rolling his shoulders. It still hurt, of course, and there was enough material to avoid needing a proper dressing just yet. He was confident in his words as he lifted Willows hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss. “Thank you for your incessant stubbornness, M’Lady. Though I must resume my position on the line...I hope to see you this evening,”

[distcntdreams]

prxncess-willow‌:

Her lips pursed as he pulled away from her touch, her brow raising at his statement. Her hand dropped from his arm, the now bloodied handkerchief crumpled up in her hand. “One does not normally wince away when it is nothing.” She said sternly, her eyes flickering to his wound once more. Willow had been around enough healers in her lifetime to know that a sword wound like that was not nothing. If they did not clean it soon, it would surely get infected. “You cannot go back out there until we clean that up.” She said, pointing to his bleeding shoulder. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his next words, having heard it from everyone she had encountered since she arrived. Of course she understood the risks that came with being a royal on the battlefields, but she did not care - her own safety meant nothing to her when her people were in danger. “It is not anymore dangerous for me as it is for you, my Prince.” She said, putting emphasis on the last word. 

She heard the pleading in his voice and saw the worry written across his face. Her own hardened expression softened as he spoke, her hand reaching forward to softly hold onto one of his callused ones. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes scanning their surroundings - wounded men were slumped against the wooden barricades all around them, healers and volunteers tending to them as fast as they could. The sounds of battle could be heard in the distance, mixed in with the moans of the wounded. Her eyes glazed over, unable to stop herself from feeling an overwhelming sense of emotion to what was going on around them. She looked back to her husband, her breath catching in her throat. When they had first gotten married, Willow had not expected anything from him. After their time at the festival, things had changed. When she looked at him now, she got butterflies in her stomach and felt warmth spread through her veins. He was an inspiration, someone she could look up to; someone she could grow to love. Part of why she could not sit idly by during this war was because he was here, fighting for their people - and she knew she could not lose him, not now.

Her head nodded at his question, her body kneeling down at a nearby bucket of water to soak her handkerchief. If she were to listen to him, he would let her clean his wound. They walked towards a quieter corner, a pointed look on her face as she stepped forward to touch the cloth to his shoulder once more. She gently kneaded at it, wiping away the blood that surrounded it with a soft touch. “You can plead with me til you use your last breath, I will not return to Eden.” She said, determination laced in her voice. “No harm will come to me. Dominic has made sure I am under constant supervision, even though I asked him many times to just leave me be. My tent has Acacian and Edenian Kingsguard at it’s entrance each night. I am not out on the battlefield - I’ve learnt many tricks from the Edenian healers while I was growing up. I can be of use here and it is where I need to be.”

He listened or tried his best to. Her soft words were nearly drown out by the sounds of everything going on around him. He often tried to drown it out with a tune something jaunty. Something that could offset all the pain and agony surrounding them. How funny it was how things could change. One minute he was cherishing his alone time in the fields...wishing for a life of freedom. Of adventure. And now? He was up to his neck in battles, each one more grueling than the last. Each one unsure if he’d be fast enough or strong enough to make it to the next. Was this the price he had to pay for his wishes? Did he even care anymore?

Looking around at the cluttered encampment to her and to his shoulder, his jaw flexed. It was all overwhelming and he hoped-- he hoped it stayed that way. He never wanted to get used to this feeling, this agony. He didn’t want this war to harden him, or the beautiful light that was his wife. Arguing with her, trying to dim that light, it wouldn’t help. But that did mean he had to like it or agree. He just...had to accept it.

As they moved, Eli sighed and resisted the urge to pull away as she pressed the wet cloth to his shoulder once more. He watched the off white soak with red hues, her gentle touch drawing another breath from his lips. “I know you won’t,” he said softly, his free hand reaching for hers. “I know you believe that you are invincible...I love that about you, Willow, but if you choose to stay, promise me you’ll heed Dominic’s words. The man drives me mad, but I agree with him on this. If anything were to happen to you...” his voice trailed off again, feeling a tightness in his chest as he looked at her. “I couldn’t live with myself. So please, I beg of you, do what you must do but be cautious,”

[distcntdreams]

prxncess-willow‌:

Willow’s arrival had been useful in providing some sort of comfort for the soldiers. She was well-known throughout the four kingdoms and was relatively well-liked and had often been seen as a beacon of hope, what with her undying positivity. The young girl basically glew as she walked through the encampments, stopping every now and then to talk to a familiar face. She felt for her people - they had left their families at home; their children and wives, many of whom were going to end this with no father or husband. It was the least she could do to come and help where she could, despite the pleas of her own husband and father to stay home in Eden where it was safe. She rolled her eyes at that thought - anyone who knew her well would know there was no way she was going to stay behind castle walls while others were suffering - it was not in her nature. 

She had been on the front lines for a few days without sight of the Prince, counting that as a blessing. The Princess did not want him to worry more than he evidently already was. It wasn’t until she heard a familiar voice call out her name that she realized her luck had come to an end - he had seen her. She handed a canteen of water over to the man she had been tending to before standing from her crouch and turning around, a guilty smile painted across her lips, which slowly faded as she saw the state of her husband. She rushed over to him, a soft hand resting just below the gash on his shoulder, her brows stitched together in concern. “Has anyone tended to this?” She asked, words coming out fast as she leaned in closer to inspect it. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stained handkerchief, pressing it to the wound. Her eyes flickered to meet his, her lips pursed slightly. “I could not stay in that castle, not when my people are out here fighting.” She said, voice quiet, “Not when you are out here fighting. If I could take every single one of these men’s places, I would.”

Home. She was supposed to be home. Safe and sound, providing support to the many Solans that needed it. Not here amongst the encampments where anything could-- his jaw twitched as he attempted to breathe. To calm the heat that was rising from beneath his collar as she hurried over. It took restraint not to swat her hand away, his heart beat quickening as she touched him, “It’s nothing,” though the second the handkerchief pressed, he was hissing through his teeth, his body all but cringing as he pulled away. He rolled his shoulder again, ignoring the pain as he stretched it. “I’ll be fine. I am on my way back to the front lines. Or I was-- do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here for you?” he asked, doing his best to steady his tone.

They’d spoken of this when they were assigned their position or rather, when Elion volunteered to take a place at the front. He took no pleasure in dictating what his wife could or couldn’t do. She was his equal, not someone to command. But this-- this was different. “You care about your people, I understand that. But you can not help your people if harm comes to you...” It was a tender thing, his words. Perhaps it was cold, but when his brother had expressed his intentions for the two of them to be wed, Eli expected to hold no affections for her. He wanted free of this place, of his title and station, so so badly. Forming a tie with her, affections for her, would’ve been a mistake...and yet here he was, his face flushed at the thought of harm coming to her well being. Since the Fireflight festival things had shifted...circumstances had changed and though they still didn’t know each other as well as husband and wife should, Eli felt something for her.

“Willow, please,” he sighed softly, nodding toward a spot around the corner of the encampment away from prying ears.  “Let us discuss this? Maybe somewhere alone?”

[distcntdreams]

hello everyone! I just wanted to apologize for my disappearing act. Things have been chaotic but I hope to be back. I’ll be catching up on what I missed and trying to re-engage today. So if you’d like to plot/do anything with Eli, please let me know!

[distcntdreams]

Elion took a deep breath, pain searing through his shoulder as he leaned his head back. The gash in his leather wasn’t deep or at least it hadn’t felt that way until the battle had subsided. It was a breathe. An inhale. And that was all it took for the pain to set in and for him to find his way to into the gates for some relief. He attempted to roll his left shoulder. Which it moved, thank gods. It hurt like hell, but he knew once he found a way to stop the bleeding, he could make his way back. So he sat, jaw locked, eyes closed as the battle played over in his mind. Analyzing his movements. The moments he should’ve ducked or pushed forward. He considered himself a gifted swordsman and yet, these battles...they were taking more out of him than expected. He felt as though they-- he wasn’t making any ground. What happened to the fighter he knew? The one who threw caution to the wind and won no matter the circumstance?

But circumstance was different now, wasn’t it? This was war. Real war. Not some silly sparring session. Not a duel. It was real and it was fierce. He sighed to himself, wondering what his brother would think of him, sitting when he could be out there? His foot bounced, unsure if or when another wave would hit. Maybe this was a bad idea. He was fine enough to move, no matter the pain. He needed to get back out there. Elion stood, about to make his way around the bustling relief members, helping those with worse injuries, back to the frontlines when he caught a flash of familiar red.

“Willow?” he called out before he could stop himself. No, there was no good reason she’d be so close to the battle field. Not when she was supposed to be home in Eden. @prxncess-willow​

[distcntdreams]

prxncess-willow‌:

Big brown eyes searched the face of the Prince as he spoke, her brows furrowed slightly. Willow had always had a gift when it came to reading people - it was one of the reasons her father had given her the title of Princess. The way she connected with people was rare, something the King had only come across a very few instances in his lifetime. The girl had a way with people that was like none other and as she grew older, whispers of her becoming the future Queen of Eden arose throughout the castle. Before she knew it, the talk followed her wherever she went, “Is that Princess Willow? I heard she’s going to be our next Queen. Wouldn’t that be fantastic?” It was humbling, knowing that her people wanted her in a position of ruling.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she noticed Elion drift away from her, kneeling beside a vendor girl. She followed behind him, a soft smile painted across her features as she watched him interact with her. It was always a good indication of someone’s heart to see the way they interacted with children, especially those of lower status than them. There were many royals that kicked them to the side, not bothering to waste an ounce of their energy on them - she was glad to see that he was not one of those people. She lifted her hand in a wave as they looked over at her, taking a few steps closer so she stood beside them.

“It would be an honour,” She said, kneeling down herself so he could place it upon her head. “These are beautiful - I presume they are handcrafted? You are quite talented.” Pale hands reached up to adjust the crown on her head, her bright red waves falling down from it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say these are Edenian flowers. Do you hail from Eden, m’lady?” Her cheeks blushed as a smile pulled on her lips, her blood warm as it pumped through her veins. She was very content.

Her gaze shifted to the Prince beside her, a playful wink shooting his way. “I don’t think I can part with this - I just must have it. How much?” She asked the girl.

The little girl’s eyes widened as Willow waved and stepped closer. Perhaps she hadn’t recognized him in such shambled clothing, but by the way her mouth sat agape, it was obvious she recognized his wife. Her long fiery waves were a give away if there ever was one. Elion grinned, still watching the little one as Willow spoke, before tapping his chin with a wink. She snapped it shut and did her best to curtsey, though the dress she wore was much too long for her to grip properly.

“M--m’lady,” she stammered, as she looked from the princess to him. He nodded, placing the crown on Willow’s head gently. It did look quite beautiful, the mixture of champaign and ivory offsetting the vibrant color of her hair. For a moment, he found himself staring...enthralled with seeing her famous gifts in person. So, it weren’t a fluke. She genuinely did value those that most royals thought beneath them. There was no other explanation for the interaction. She needn’t show off for him nor did she have anything to gain from he or the child. Just-- simple conversation and the brightening of a child’s night. Bringing his attention back to the little one, he noticed her cheeks had gone bright pink and her eyes were settled on her feet. Had he missed something?

“Aye, but I cannot accept your silver,” she began, her shoulders buckling in a bit as Elion glanced over at his wife.

“O’course you can, little one, our silver is as good as any,” Eli reached out to touch her arm, an attempt to let her know that she was grounded there with them as tears began to prick her eyes.

“I could not possibly accept your silver, for these flowers, they are not mine to sell. I picked from the Edenian royal gardens. I-- I did not think they would be missed. I-I apologize, Your Grace,”

Elion pulled his attention, his head tilting toward Willow in an attempt to gauge her reaction. It did not matter to him where the flowers where from, but it was not his place to say. So he stayed silent, hoping that she could ease the girl better than he.

[infpisme]

Night air, good conversation, and a sky full of stars can heal almost any wound.”

Beau Taplin, Remedy

[infpisme]

It takes a great deal of courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and still to love it.

Oscar Wilde (via infpisme)

[distcntdreams]

bardiisms‌:

𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍  𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆  /  @distcntdreams​

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  :  the  center  aisle 

     ELENA  WAS  NO  THIEF  ;  she  had  promised  herself  to  never  outright  steal  when  she  left  acacia  ,  there  were  other  ways  to  make  money.  but  that  did  not  mean  she  couldn’t  find  loopholes  in  her  pledge.  the  fireflight  festival  was  a  rare  occasion  for  her  to  be  on  the  same  playing  field  as  her  superiors  .  .  .  and  who  was  to  say  others  deserved  a  bottle  of  mead  when  she  had  none?  at  least  that  was  what  she  told  herself  as  she  wove  her  way  through  the  packed  tavern.  

     her  eyes  narrowed  in  on  a  man  passed  out  at  a  table  ,  a  nearly  full  bottle  abandoned  at  his  fingertips.  she  plucked  the  alcohol  from  his  loosened  grip  and  considered  it  a  favor  to  the  man.  “  think  of  the  headache  i’m  sparing  you.  ”  elena  whispered  as  if  the  sleeping  lump  of  a  person  could  hear  her.           

     with  a  little  skip  in  her  step  ,  elena  veered  away  from  the  man  ,  her  sights  set  on  the  exit.  she  was  already  tipping  the  bottle  back  ,   eager  to  take  on  the  night  with  some  more  liquid  courage.  the  intoxicated  bard  was  deep  in  her  self  praise  (  as  if  she  had  pulled  off  a  heist  equal  to  stealing  the  royal  jewels  )  and  therefore  distracted  when  a  large  hand  landed  on  her  shoulder.  

     gods  SAVE  her  ,  the  lump  woke  up.  “  how  can  i  help  you?  ”  an  imitation  of  an  innocent  smile  sat  on  her  face  ,  unfamiliar  to  the  bard  who  always  thought herself  far  too  clever  to  get  caught.              

Music, dancing, drink-- what wasn’t to like about the Fireflight festival thus far? From the moment Elion stepped into the Aisle he’d felt as though the gods themselves lifted the weights from around his shoulders. He was no longer burdened by his responsibilities to his kingdom, nor the threat of sickness or fear. He’d stepped into the tavern nothing more than a man with coin in his pocket and a bounce in his step and he’d been taking full advantage of both ( and plenty of mead ) when he found himself standing on hardwood of one of the tavern tables.

“When we're at the tavern we,  care not what this world may be.  We play, we drink tis thus my friends,  we burn both candles at the end !” 

-- he belted out the words, ignoring the reprimand from the barkeep as the patrons around cheered and sang along. Had he not already booked a room for the night, he may have been more cautious. Likely not. He sang out another verse, sloshing his mead when he caught sight of a curious scene-- a familiar face amongst the glorious sea of strangers.

Another night and Elion would’ve at best ignored them. At worst he would’ve turned tail and made himself disappear. But this ! It was the Fireflight festival ! No one, no matter how familiar would kill the buzz in his veins. So as the barkeep scolded again, he laughed and lept off the table, bare feet landing on the floor with a muffled thud.

“Dear sister ! There you are !” he called out as sauntered passed the large mass. Gods she looks so familiar, no doubt I’ve seen her around the court-- he thought mid stride. Eli slung an arm around the woman’s shoulders and plucking the drink from her hand. “Thank you for procuring my drink. How much did it cost-- oh,” he paused, turning to see the man as he feigned a look surprise,”  ‘ello good sir. How may we help ya?”

[distcntdreams]

musingmemes‌:

a historical / fantasy / period / medieval friendly character survey.

reblog and bold your muses preference.

roses / cherry blossoms / orchids / tulips

winter / summer / autumn / spring

thunderstorms / sunshine / snow 

indoors / outdoors

meat / fruit / sweets

extravagance / traditionalism / minimalism

god fearing / non god fearing

cats / dogs / horses / birds

sunrise / sunset

day time / night time

fire / earth / water / wind 

reading / writing

rising early / sleeping late 

wine / ale / neither ( mead )

fur / silk / satin / lace 

rubies / pearls / sapphires 

horse back / walking / carriages 

love / power

having company / being alone 

lakes / rivers / oceans 

knife / sword / bow / poison 

gold / silver 

[distcntdreams]

prxncess-willow‌:

Willow had known of Prince Elion since she was little – all Royal families were at least acquaintances, some even friends. They had been cordial at celebrations like birthdays and weddings, but had never really gotten to know each other like she had with so many other nobles. She supposed her friendship with Dom took up most of her time; she had often found herself milling about with him at any gathering,  getting up to any mischief that they could. Although Willow had always been a very social person, she had never reached out to the Prince of Aura. She had often wondered how different it would be had they gotten to know each other more as children – would they still be married, or would they have ended up like Willow and Dom?

Truth be told, this whole situation was confusing to the girl. Were they meant to pursue each other, or were they meant to cast their marriage to the side and seek others like so many others did? Willow had never been one for affairs – she had always disapproved of Dom and his many conquests. Even if their marriage was without love, she was a firm believer in commitment; marriage being the biggest commitment of all. She hoped they could be friends, at the very least, if nothing more came from it.

“She spoke the truth,” She said as they walked slowly through the hustle and bustle of the festival. “My father said the same – along with how much he thought I would enjoy it. I’ve always believed that everyone should be treated as equals. Just because I am a Princess does not mean I am any better than the elderly woman who sells beets at the Marketplace. She mothered four children and raised them on her own, put a food in front of them for every meal. Who am I to say I am better than her, simply because I got lucky?” She waved at some familiar faces as they passed by, recognizing people from her own kingdom and others that she often ran into when she visited the Centre Aisle.  It was true – Willow was only in this position because of luck. Had the royal family not taken her in upon her parent’s demise, she would have ended up orphaned on the streets, begging for the end pieces of bread each and every day. “We need more celebrations like this, where everyone can be merry together with no titles getting in the way.”

Eli nodded as he listened, though his mind wandered. How nice it must have been to have parents like that. Could he remember a time his father told him a story, let alone one about something he’d ‘enjoy’. That’s not to say his father didn’t love him. He loved him and all his children in his own way. The warmth that seemed to radiate between Willow and her father even in his absence was something Elion’s father rationed. It was reserved for only the most momentous occasions. What would he’ve felt at their wedding, he wondered. Pride that Eli was actually contributing for a change? Or simple relief he was doing his duty to the crown? The latter most likely. There was no reward in doing what was expected of you-- and yet, he knew his father would have been positively glowing when Nicholas knelt for the crown.

“There’s no such thing as ‘luck’. Only the essence of what we and those around us manifest for ourselves,” he said, steering them through as she waved. As they passed a familiar lad, he gave the soldier a pat and accepted another flagon of frothing ale from him. He raised it, shouting a playful cheer before knocking it back for a large swig, “Mm-- but I agree. We are no better, we simply hold more power. Power that you seem to put to good use.” 

There was no judgement in his voice. Only amusement. More than a few gazes drew their way and though some aimed to catch his attention, most were for her. Though he knew not of her personally, he’d heard her reputation, Eden’s shining light. Their beacon of warmth and connection. His father might’ve rolled in his grave knowing her title of Princess was handed to her, but he would’ve appreciated the strategy of it all. Power and strategy were far from Elion’s favorite topics, but there was no denying the genius of Nicholas’ choice. How could you not be endeared to a woman like Willow? Her kingdom no doubt held that sentiment. It was only a matter of time before the people of Aura felt the same.

“A lovely thought...” But unlikely. It was better to shed them than rely on another to disregard them. Which only reminded him his window was closing. Time was slipping away and needed to make a decision. Soon. 

But not now. Until then-- distractions will suffice. 

Eli veered off course as two merchants caught his eye. A grizzled looking man in fine clothes selling honey wine and another, much smaller and fair, selling flower crowns. A closer look at the later revealed that she was but a child no more than ten, thin and squalid. Elion paused as her long dark hair fell messily around her face and she had to sweep it away, calling out to another passing couple.

“Fancy a crown for your lady, sir ? One silver and she’ll--” her voice trailed off as they disappeared into the crowd, her frame buckling a bit.

“Hail, little one, what fine wares you have,” He felt her hesitation as she eyed his dress, but he slipped closer, crouched and she stood straight. “Do you make these all by hand?” Again he was met with a quizzical look, though he swore he noted a hint of pink in the child’s cheeks as she brushed her hair from her face.

“O’course I do. I do everythin’ m’self...” Of course. She needn’t say much more.

“Well, I’ve been lookin’ all over the Aisle for a gift for m’lass...somethin so beautiful and unique, she’ll feel like royalty. Would it be alright if she tried one on?” 

The girl nodded and held one out, “Y-yes. How about this one?” He reached for the delicately wreathed champaign and ivory, but paused. In his zest, he wasn’t sure if Willow had even followed. But he glanced over his shoulder with a soft smile, hoping to catch hers anyway.

“What d’ya think, my love? Care to try it on?”

[distcntdreams]

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[distcntdreams]

Hey all! Just wanted to say I’m still around. I’ve been kinda bleh the last few days so I’ve been fallin asleep super early. I hope to have some replies up tonight or tomorrow though!