timestamp : the requiem / spring , 486 ac. location : eyrie , the vale tagging : @bloomsred ( peregrine gardener )
it was not as if toman storm had spent nineteen years in a windowless room until his father had decided to unveil him unto the world. he had grown up amongst the docks of the stormlands, a place where sailors and laborers lived their lives and lived them in vibrant colors — — perhaps not the deep jewel tones of the nobility, nor the gold threads of his new family, if you could call them that, but bright colors of their own design. there was the blue of the sky of course, the dark shad of the waves, but those of titled birth might do well not to forget the deep browns of wood that’s come to shine with use, the red of cheeks flushed, the orange of fires that burned the same color no matter your station, or purple of wine that, while cheap, serves a purpose.
that is to say, it was only with particulars that he was naive — — he had arguably seen more life than some of the more esteemed guests present for the changing of guard in the vale. parties were parties and he certainly had drank too much before. certainly a small gathering that someone had invited him to would be the same or at least the same shape for him to navigate. he’s pulled along, curious to see the festivities that might occur despite the purpose of this gathering. soon enough, he finds himself in someone’s apartments. after a few more drinks, his usual guard for the sake of his status is slipping slightly, and without realizing it, he’s entered conversation with the resident of these apartments, the host of this party, and the crown prince of a kingdom.
‘ do you think they brought the wine themselves, or was it intended for the funeral feast ? ’
