are you deranged like me?

i'll pull them out one by one

[christopherwooddaily]

jackfalahee: “He’s a gentleman and good at billiards. Damn him.”

[christopherwooddaily]

“In prep for the show, I did heavy weight training for about two hours in the morning and sometimes an additional hour for an evening session. If I was off for a scene or two at work, I would do body weight and band exercises in my trailer, or sprints in the parking lot. That’s a perk of being on a show where your character isn’t showering much and often looking dirty—the makeup artist actually thanks you for getting gross on your own.”

[joshduhamels]

“I would love to wield a light saber or play my favorite superhero, Batman. I’ve always wanted to incorporate another of my loves, baseball, into my work, so getting to play a baseball player would be a dream.”- Chris Wood.

[brooksfaulkner]

He could have thought himself of that, but honestly, all the thoughts of war were too important that he almost forgot about the things Silvers did merely for their entertainment, while completely ignorant to what was happening to people outside of these stable walls and shiny luxury. Now that this was explained, Brooks nodded in understanding, gaze settling on the ground. “You quit?”

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

Quit, oh, at this point he wished he had retired, with a reputation still intact and something else to do with his life. 

“Bested,” Gerard said stiffly, resisting the urge to punch this Red in the face for the sole reason that he, Brooks, had brought up this topic. 

Or maybe Gerard had, but Brooks was the one insulting him now, wasn’t he? 

[swelle]

“I had always hoped,” she corrected, conveniently glossing over the word he’d used: pestering. Yes, he probably did consider her a bit of pest at this point. She’d never given it much thought; hadn’t he realized she only wanted to help? Odds were, yes, he would realistically have to eventually surrender to some level of pleasantry, but she had never truly expected it, certainly not enough to prepare. “Besides, if you leave now,” she added, brows raised and a twinge of sarcasm in her tone, “I’ll think it is all to do with you being afraid of being bested. By me.” 

Sabina peered up at Gerard, looking for any indication at all that he was joking. That the cat wasn’t really named Princess, that he didn’t really have a cat at all, that he wasn’t really going to play a game with her: but there was nothing there. She smiled. “That’s adorable,” she conceded, the amiable, bubbly warmth seeping back into her speech. She had been attempting to neutralize it for far too long and was losing the energy to do it any longer. One could only plug a dam for so long.

When they arrived at the ring toss, Sabina approached the counter and collected six rings from herself and began trying them out as bracelets while she waited for Gerard to collect his. “I trust this will be a fair game, yes? Does the winner get a prize?”

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

Believers in hope, if anything, were worse than those who believed in luck. Luck at least was considered an unseen force of the universe that served as the reason that things happened. People were grateful after the fact, thinking that luck had been on their side. Hope was the opposite, the idea that sheer force of will would bring good fortune without ever having to put any work into it.

Ten years of Feats hadn’t been won by hope or luck, though, nor had Octavian had either on his side when Gerard’s fall eventually came. Perhaps that- aside from the consequences that came from his defeat, including the loss of his pillars of support, of stability- was why Gerard couldn’t control his emotions about Octavian Carros. The man put effort into everything he did, in the same way Gerard had trained for years, every day, his every hour planned. Octavian had beat him on skill, and they would not fight again until the stoneskin knew he could go in there wanting to draw blood and end up succeeding. 

For so long he’d thought that Sabina Welle simply smiled too much and looked for good where there was none, but maybe there was this as well: maybe she saw the world through a framework he didn’t believe existed, and he simply could not understand her as a person. How she existed in this world where wars could last for hundreds of years and sixteen years of an engagement could be dissolved by the swing of a broadsword glinting in the sunlight. 

“I’d hate to think that I’ve given you reason to believe hoping actually works,” Gerard told her, though her next words kept him in his place by her side. His urge to leave her and this conversation behind had been growing since he’d agreed to spend time with her, but in the same way he couldn’t stand to admit defeat to Helene, he could not stand to allow Sabina to win this- whatever it was. 

Ignoring her words about his cat- adorable, he thought with irritation. He’d just wanted a cat, really, there was no need to insult him. One defeat in the Feats and suddenly the Welle girl thought he had a heart. 

Never mind that the cat elicited the first smile Gerard had given to anyone but Alessa since losing, or the sense of peace he’d felt as he curled her up close to him on his way back to the Palace to make a home for her in his apartment. Never mind that she was already named Princess ( it was a coincidence, but he liked to think it in honor of what Alessa would be after Queenstrial- he had no doubt she would win, after all. 

The Red woman who had sold the kitten to him, Andy, he remembered her introducing himself, had been all too kind. He hadn’t taken well to it, but she’d lit up at the offer of him buying Princess, not that he would have taken a ‘no’ from her. She’d seemed more happy at the thought that he wanted a cat than at the ten tetrarchs he’d handed over for Princess, but Reds were interesting like that.

Not everything was about money or standing. He couldn’t say he was jealous of their life, no, but they had their perks. Few, but present. 

“I don’t cheat,” Gerard answered, insulted. “This isn’t something romantic, Sabina, I’m not looking for an excuse to win you a prize.” 

[terrvrs]

It was endearing–watching Gerard attempt to communicate, trying to converse in a language foreign to him and falling decidedly short, words of sympathy and compassion drying up before they even fell from his tongue. But it was an attempt. More than Romulus expected from the Stoneskin. After all–Gerard was a man who spoke with bruising fists and bloody knuckles in the arena, and out of it allowed reputation to pave a clear path as he strode through the halls. Words weren’t his forte.

But it was enough of an effort to mollify Romulus.

“Of course. There are many things that have been taken from me. But this?“ He wouldn’t allow it. ”And you do the honors of telling her. You’re the fighter after all.” Walking past Gerard, he clapped a hand on the Stoneskin’s shoulder, a gesture both conspiratory and delegating. “You’ve got a higher chance of survival when her claws come out.”

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

Something had changed over the course of their conversation, a shift in the dynamic that felt stilted. Gerard felt uncomfortable now, in his own skin, standing in front of a shadow who could make himself invisible if he so wished. People were not his area of experience, and neither were words. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only way out of this conversation, because he hadn’t been smart enough to prevent himself from entering into it.

Romulus was doing him a favor, Gerard reminded himself as the shadow responded in a much calmer manner, but instead of making him feel better- by serving as the explanation for this strange situation he was in, now, where he knew not what to say- his dread started to G R O W.

Not only would Diana be severely unpleased, but Gerard Macanthos was now in the D E B T of Romulus Haven of all people, and as quietly as they would have to start speaking to each other now- as allies, were they?- he still held a strong judgement of the other man. The debt was more important. Diana’s anger was always far more serious in theory. In her head, she allowed herself to dream of all the damage she wished she could do when she wasn’t being forced to bite her tongue and listen to her parents telling her who to marry. 

“She knows she can’t do any real harm,” Gerard corrected Haven. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve to go find someone.”

With a slow nod at Romulus, Gerard stepped back and strode into the crowd, only one target in mind. 

END THREAD. 

[generalmacanthos-blog]

WBS + text posts [part 3]

[ofsamos-blog]

( GERARD MACANTHOS ):

Any doubt about this being anything but an unpleasant conversation vanished within seconds of the magnetron opening his mouth. They’d never been enemies exactly, but they’d never gotten along, either. For most of their lives, Gerard hadn’t spared a thought to the older Samos sibling. Distance was a blessing in that way- he hadn’t even had to think about his own brother, away at the Choke for so long, let alone spared any thought to Alessa’s. 

In the past year that Augustus had been back at Archeon, however, the animosity between the two had grown. Now, Samos looked about as happy as Gerard felt, but he quickly shoved that thought from his mind. He didn’t like the idea of having anything in common with Augustus Samos, especially not something as minute as this.

It showed that they thought the same way, and he hated that.

The older man’s words struck him as odd however- while he’d been headed to get his hands on some alcohol, he hadn’t yet touched a sip. “Daydreaming about me, Samos?” Gerard asked, ignoring the man’s intended taunt. “I can’t imagine why else you’d think to have seen me with a drink.” 

“Unless you’re trying to accuse me of something?” 

     Except for their shared family name, ability, and features ( brown hair, blue eyes, and a jaw cut like a diamond ), the Macanthos siblings had little in common. From what he had heard from Graham’s own mouth, it had been this way for ages, the fissures between each sibling only growing as each year passed. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember a time when Alessa wasn’t the rationale behind his actions and even if he could, he didn’t care to. 

     Looking at Gerard now, Augustus recognized elements of his best friend’s looks mirrored in his own brother’s. It wasn’t surprising ( they did, of course, share more than a handful of genes ), but it was a bit DISARMING. He could hear his voice in the back of his mind, dolling out advice in spades, telling him that making a scene here would be rather petty and foolish. 

     Drinking the last bit of liquor, Augustus set the now empty glass on the makeshift counter in the booth, the beginnings of a grin making itself known on his face. He’d listen to his conscience, but he wouldn’t forego all fun. “ Hm, odd. I could’ve sworn someone pointed and said that it was the Champion of the Fe— ” he stopped as if he had come to a realization, “ Oh yes, I forgot, that’s no longer you. ” Shooting the other a sympathetic look, Augustus shrugged sheepishly, “ Mea culpa. ” Then motioning to the barkeep, he spoke again, “ Whatever he gets, its on me. ” 

     Without looking back, he left Gerard there, satisfied with what had just happened. Perhaps it seemed a bit kind of him to make up for his folly, but Augustus hadn’t paid for a drink all night and he wouldn’t pay for THAT one either. It was of little consequence to him.

— FIN

[griffinmacanthos-blog]

generalmacanthos:

genevicve:

There was something repulsive about Gerard’s response. Genevieve hated those sort of comments; barbed, but utterly lacking in subtlety. The best insults leave the insulted unaware of the slight until much later. But Gerard always had lacked finesse, hadn’t he?

It hardly mattered to her, in any case, that Griffin’s aim was less than perfect. Clearly he hadn’t attained the rank he had for nothing; if he didn’t want to market his skills to the rest of them, good for him. At least this way, nobody saw how powerful he could be until it was too late: everybody knew what Gerard could do, so they would more easily be able to defend themselves against him.

She was about to make a comment to that effect, when she remembered that Graham was there, and she didn’t want him to mistake her words for trying to build any bridges. And then, she wondered why she cared what he thought. And then she was frustrated, because he shouldn’t dictate what she wanted to say, one way or the other.

“DON’T drag me into your squabble,” she said at length, curt and distant. “And people that live in glass houses oughtn’t throw stones. Graham and Griffin have both found success in the army; they’re both many things, pathetic isn’t one of them.” Curse Gerard, for making her speak so kindly of her brothers.

Graham watched intently as Griffin took aim, knowing how this would end, but curious to see if he could pull something out of his sleeve at the last minute. He didn’t, however, and the knife landed much farther from the bullseye than it had for the other three. He kept any witty retorts to Griffin’s excuse at bay, knowing that wouldn’t warm him to the other stoneskin any faster. He’d done enough damage by indulging himself and putting his little brother in the spotlight. “Take your time,” he said, face expressionless and tone all business.

Genevieve’s compliment—though said only to insult Gerard—left him stunned. His back instinctively straightened because of it as he waited for something else to be said that would sting far worse to make up for it. He was also aware that the many other things they were was probably a list as long as her apartment was wide. But for now, he tried to focus on those words, tried to hold onto them while he could still hear them bouncing around his head.

Daring glances at the three of them, he thought about what the four of them might be like in battle. Under current circumstances, he knew they’d be terrible, their lack of communication causing them to flounder on the battlefield as they all fought however they wanted. Take that out of the equation though, pretend that they could work as a unit for any length of time and…the image he had was quite deadly.

It only made their distance leave a far more bitter taste in his mouth. He tried to push it out of his mind, tried to focus on the bullseye instead of what seemed impossible to fix. But his heart pounded, his palms were sweaty, and frankly, he just wanted to escape. As best he could, he lined up the shot and threw the dart. It was closer to the bullseye than Griffin’s, but not by much. He took a deep, imperceptible breath in. He would not let his siblings find a weak spot to crack wide open. He would not let them see him as anything other than unshakeable.

He knew that Gerard was going to make some sort of remark against him. The two had been making obvious jabs at each other since Griffin had returned. 

What Genieveve had said had caught him by surprise. It made a smile appear across his face. His own sister standing up for him? Even Graham’s comment caught him by surprise. Graham was being…understanding? But Griffin was more than ready to defend himself before she jumped it and did it for him. Or rather them. Her comment had caused him to stare silently at Gerard as he was waiting for Gerard to practically pounce on the three of them. 

“She’s right.” He blurted out. “You have no right to call me that.” He replied as he looked at Gerard. He watched as Graham threw another knife and did a bit better than him. He nodded at his oldest brother, trying to indicate that it was a good throw. “You’re no better than us, especially with that fallen title of yours.” He added as he threw another knife. This time a little better but not by much. Perhaps due to the fact that he was imagining someone was his target.

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

In what Gerard could only assume was an effort to prove him wrong, Genevieve proceeded to go out of her way to bestow the closest thing to a compliment she’d awarded any of her brothers in years. Fine. If that was how she wanted to be, then the General could appreciate this figurative medal in the same way he proudly wore his other badges of honor, and Griffin could have one heartwarming family moment to reflect on at night, when his eyes were closed. 

The gesture was altogether too altruistic for their sister, and far from believing  she wanted to do something nice for the other two, Gerard knew she was irritated with his behavior. Residual anger, maybe, from losing Diana. 

Griffin’s second attempt at throwing was just as pathetic as the first, the knife quivering only slightly closer to the bullseye than the first one. The sight of it- a testament to Griffin’s failure- paired with Griffin’s judgment made him want to leave. The only reason he’d suggested the competition was because he thought he was going to win, but as he threw his knife- which again, didn’t hit the mark as close as Genevieve’s, he realized he was second. 

“Alright then, enjoy your family reunion,” he said, stepping away from the booth. As he turned, he managed to find himself directly in front of Griffin, making it easy to purposely shove his brother’s shoulder with his own on his way into the crowd of people just beyond. 

[cosimairal-blog]

As Gerard walked closer Cosima was struck with an unfamiliar wave of nostalgia — not necessarily a longing for the past, but a fond glance upon it. Like one might look upon a cage they had been kept, and think, while pointing at one particular spot in the corner: Ah yes, I had been close to happiness once there.

They had never been friends, the two of them, not really. They both had been too different, and too hardened, to be friends. Separate fires had burned at their feet. But yet, in distinction, they had not been enemies either. They had been them: partners in the sparring ring and occasional hostels for the grumblings of one another’s misgivings to their world.

Though she had not thought of Gerard for months, maybe even years, before that instant of seeing his face through the crowds, the Silk could think only that she had been grateful for him. Grateful, that in some minute, unspoken, way, he let her know she was not entirely alone.

And it was that gratitude, old and dusted, held by the grasp of a passed time, which kept her knuckles uncurled in spite of the loathing she harboured.

Leaning forward, a careful smirk on her lips, she said in response: “But you don’t even know what my asking price is, m’lord, how can you say you aren’t at all inclined to meet it? I can tell you your future, your future.… Does that not catch your curiosity well enough for a few coins? Do you already know your future, m’lord?”

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

A Title from the Feats had once meant that the Elite, and consequently everyone in Archeon, had addressed him with some form of respect that barely, if at all, concealed the contempt or judgment that his ‘peers’ held for him. The last month, however, had resulted in a loss of even that, and while the words of others were waters off a duck’s back, the words of the fortune teller were still jarring. 

For a Red to be brave enough to approach someone wearing a permanent scowl on his face seemed strange enough, but to work towards keeping his attention, once he’d already said he wouldn’t pay- that was strange. 

“I don’t believe in all of this,” Gerard scoffed. “My future’s mine to make.” 

This fortune teller didn’t seem to be all that successful, if she had to flag down her customers. Weren’t susceptible and naive fools supposed to wander into these tents, determine to know their futures before they were even written? Or even wealthy Silvers who treated fortune telling as the joke it was? 

“You’re very bad at what you,” he pointed out, “So I’m not wasting my money on you.” 

[kristinehyland-blog]

Somehow, she’d been expecting him to protest. Something about her dirty Red hands and her dirty Red money poisoning his drink - it was the sort of comments Kris had learned to expect from Silvers. A part of her had almost hoped he would kick up a fuss, because she was a little bit bored and a little bit reckless, and it was no small part of her that was calling to silence the voice commenting on how alright some of the Silvers were.

The entire day, she had been anticipating the sharp pain of having her hands pulled behind her back, or a quick slap across the face just for being her. The Silvers of her reality were still unpleasant, but in a more insidious way. Kris could deal with being slapped; what she couldn’t deal with were snide comments and quiet, backhanded insults.

It was difficult to tell whether this man was one of those sorts; most of them were, and she could only assume he was the same. Nonetheless, she appreciated that he held her coin back out to her - she took it quick, as though afraid he would toss it away from her.

“What’s a burner?” She asked, frowning. She knew what burning was, but the way he said it made her think it carried a special weight she didn’t understand.

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

What’s a burner? Her words, curious and yet simultaneously uncaring, ran through his head a few times before he could actually answer. It made sense that a Red would neither know nor care what a Burner was. Unless she’d been in the war, she likely had never seen a Silver before, and her crude manner of speaking gave way that she cared about as much as picking up a book as he did when he wasn’t forced into it. 

Reading was only ever an activity he’d engaged in to match wits with Diana, his ex-fiancee a lover of Shakespeare and other far less interesting works from a time much before broken engagements and the rule of House Calore and Archeon itself. Besides, Reds weren’t worth it anymore, if they’d ever been. In an altruistic moment, he’d gifted away his patience to another Red, one he’d used as a punching bag earlier. 

“Silver. Controls flames,” Gerard said, holding up two fingers to call for another drink.

[genevicve]

Sometimes, Genevieve herself didn’t even know WHY. If she put her mind to it, she could win Queenstrial and rule Norta, and it would be easy. She could join the army, and become a General in no time at all - if her military prowess didn’t convince them, her family history would. It would be easy.

And that was just the problem.

If it was easy then there was no satisfaction. She didn’t want to grow fat on sweets and allow her empire to pamper her. Couldn’t grow old and die so frail that her head was an unearthly weight. Wouldn’t learn how to control the world just to allow that power to rust into her joints. That wasn’t the point, though it was difficult to articulate.

Thinking about it now was something close to stressful for her, though - usually these musings soothed her. Her mind lived in the future, where things were just as she had planned them. But now, she was forced to consider that that future she had so carefully formed might not include Diana. That had never been a part of the plan.

“If I become Queen, I’m only superior because a man decided that I could be. If I joined the army, they would say I only succeeded because of my family name, whether that were true or not. That wouldn’t make me superior, it would make me weak and dependent,” she said, voice thick around a mouthful of warm apple. “It was different for you. Nobody could accuse you of being undefeated in the Feats because you’re a Macanthos, because Macanthoses never participate. THAT’S superiority. Will you go back? To the Feats, I mean?”

Though they were not the bonding sort of family, she was curious as to his plans for the future. If nothing else, knowing the plans of those around her made it easier to form her own.

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

Her logic was impeccable, and as much as Gerard was loathe to admit it, he could understand her and her motives. To succeed at something that had been handed to you, just for being born into one of the most powerful families in Archeon, well. That was the sort of thing that Graham did, or Griffin. To take what they’d been handed and build a life from that. There was no love lost between them, but at least Genevieve wanted to make something of herself. 

Ignoring the dig of the Feats ( that Macanthoses never participated ) was impossible. Scoffing, he looked up to where he assumed she’d be sitting, her eyes ahead and just to the left. It was impossible to see clearly in this darkness, Genevieve’s closet made from the most solid of wood. It was pitch black, but her unsteady breathing gave him a hint of where to direct his gaze. 

If he wasn’t still stinging from his humiliating loss, if the love of his life hadn’t just slipped out of his grasp, if he didn’t know who his sister was and what she could be like, Gerard would have thought that she was paying him a compliment. As it was, Genevieve was paying far too much interest into his future plans. Even he hadn’t thought that far ahead. 

“I don’t think anyone can accuse you of using the family name for anything, just like no one can ever call you weak without fearing for their life,” he told her before answering her question. “I’ve got no clue.” 

Honesty wasn’t a currency the siblings used freely amongst each other, but now he had literally nothing left to lose. 

[terrvrs]

5

A sloppy make out session | same AU setting as THIS drabble | @gerardmacanthos |

Keep reading

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

Gerard: Hey, Furrows.

Caius: What? Me?

Gerard: Yes. Furrows between the eyes. Moping. Lost in your own issues.

Caius: Can't a man think without being judged for it?

Gerard: I'm not judging. I was gonna say you're pretty good at it. I can't pull that off.

Caius: A tragedy, for sure.

Gerard: And I mean, if you're going to brood, you might as well reap the benefits.

Caius: What benefits?

Gerard: The ladies.

Caius: (sighs)

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

Diana: There's nothing sexier in a man than confidence.

Gerard: *wry laugh*

[swelle]

If she hadn’t still been recovering from the shock of his reversed reaction, still testing out the idea of his agreement, she might have laughed. It was an illogical thought, but still she somehow feared that something so loud might shatter the charade. She would blink herself awake and back to reality, Gerard glancing up with her before some dismissive comment directed to her under another name. That will be all, Serena. Be on your way, Sabrina. But when she glanced to her side, Gerard was still there, unwillingly or not. She had the sense Gerard didn’t do many things unwillingly, if he could help it.

“You say that as if my surprise is unfounded.” It was her best attempt at a neutral reply, and there was no way she would be able to continue with that strategy for long. “As if there’s no story behind the acquisition.” How anyone could devote so much of their energy to muted expressions or quieted speech, Sabina truly had no idea. Repressing emotion was far more exhausting than simply expressing it, in her opinion.

“Does he have a name? Or she?”

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

How long had he gone calling Sabina by every name under the sun except hers? It was practically tradition by this point, something she could rely on from him. 

Shame, that he’d taken that from her. 

“You’ve been pestering me for a long time, Sabina,” Gerard said, saying her name easily. Truth be told, it had been somewhat of a struggle to think up different names for her every time, all while keeping her actual name in mind. “At some point you’d have to expect that I would give in, right? Unless you won’t want to do this, in which case- I can leave.” 

He’d gladly do that, easily extricate himself from her grasp and start loping away. She’d come after him eventually though. That would be a headache. 

“Princess. Already named when I got her,” he clarified. He’d be damned if the greenwarden thought the stoneskin willingly named a kitten Princess. 

[helenecalore-blog]

He was distracted, certainly, but the magic show happening before their eyes was hardly worth paying such close attention to. Keeping their recent argument in mind, the princess was naturally inclined to assume he was doing it on purpose to irritate her (it was working), but a small part of her wondered if, in his time of loss — of his pride, of his title, of his fianceé — he’d grown willing to turn to anything, even a pathetic Red’s attempts to pull colored scarves out of a top hat, for amusement, distraction, maybe even HOPE.

Hope should’ve been foreign to people like them — to a woman like her — who had the power to tamper with their own fates, while lowly Reds could only dream, but Helene Calore was no stranger to the virtue hailed as the greatest, second only to LOVE. She’d hoped for years that her fire would burn a path that led straight to her father’s heart, but to no avail.

She knew hope; she’d had it, but it had proved useless.

The stoneskin didn’t answer for a moment or two, and the burner had almost come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t when he spoke up again, dashing her idea that he did, in fact, have issues with his mother and preferred not to say so against the rocks. “Thank you for enlightening me,” Helene murmured, feigning boredom, but his brief explanation of the Macanthos family dynamic and his subsequent comparison between his and her own were mildly intriguing. For the first time since she’d approached him, he glanced down at her, and her blue eyes locked with his for a sliver of a second.

“And you did?” He’d already returned his gaze to the magician and his antics when she responded, but the blonde still had the grace to look incredulous.

“You know nothing about the way we operate,” the youngest Calore said evenly. Apathy was perhaps the most inaccurate word Gerard Macanthos could’ve possibly chosen to describe the relationships between the royals — even Seraphina had never known how to be lukewarm, and the flames they shared hadn’t made their home inside her. “It’d do you well to forget what you’ve heard.” About her, especially; the only rumors that held truth were those that spoke of her raging fire — any others were merely speculation.

“Talk is cheap.” 

How fitting that those who were below them bought so much of it.

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

The subject of his family bored him honestly, and for all that he’d told her about them, it was already too much. Since the return of his brothers, he’d thankfully been spared from engaging in more than a handful of interactions with both of them combined, and with his mother far away and his sister inclined to stay far enough away after the incident in the cupboard, Gerard was left well enough alone. 

Far be it for Helene Calore to push his buttons on that subject, of all things, however, so he plastered a sardonic smile on his face. “You’re welcome.” Gerard couldn’t decide whether she was genuinely interested in his family dynamics or if she was being sarcastic- the line had become too blurred at some point- but he easily decided that he didn’t care. Far too much time had gone by at the carnival making sure that he didn’t end up in this exact situation for him to now rest on his laurels and actually entertain the youngest princess. 

There was only so much of her that he could take, and really, it was her fault that Prosperina Titanos felt like she could casually touch him and nudge his feet, as if they were friends of some kind. Women were all crazy- and the one that he wanted to see, Gerard couldn’t even find. Diana was either avoiding him or off having a good time without him, and both possibilities set him on edge. His love for her was easily seen, but she very clearly did not feel the same way. If the one thing that bound them together- their engagement- was dissolved, then what did they have now? Up until now he’d had no doubts that she’d want him to fight to win her back, but what if that wasn’t the case? 

Then he’d truly have nothing.

For what it was worth, Diana had always veered away from the subject of the Calores, and though he’d never been particularly curious about them, it was easy enough to fill in the blanks. Two incredibly angry burners, two incredibly silent sisters, quite a bit of anger. 

A recipe for disaster, much like his own family. Maybe there were differences- there would always be, but for Helene to say that he knew nothing... Well. Her words rang hollow and untrue. 

“Is that why you can afford to do it so much around me?”