Λ U R E L I U S @ghxstunwilling - Tumblr Blog

⸺ ♙𝐆𝐇O𝐒𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆♙

𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖚𝖘𝖗𝖕𝖌 ‣ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝖏𝖊𝖓𝖓

𝖆𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖚𝖘 𝖉𝖊𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖘 ⸺ necromancer ‣ lieutenant colonel ‣ of the second house ( timothee chalamet )

generally speaking, cavaliers shouldn’t attack their necromancers. to do so would be the very antithesis of their position. she was here to protect aurelius from harm, not to cause it to him. one flesh, one end, and all that. but after being on the receiving end of her necromancer’s harsh words, after having her own life force taken from her and concurrently being forced to relive the worst day of her life, seeing the crimson stain on aurelius’ shirtsleeve felt good. to drain him of something precious, even just for a second, before he used her own thalergy to zip himself shut.

his nod of approval stirs something in her, that gratifying feeling of receiving praise, of being recognized for doing something right. something she’d been striving for her entire life. but like all good things, the moment is fleeting, and aurelius is attacking with a newfound fervor. along with that comes the increased intensity of his thalergy absorption, which romilly can’t help but fight against. and then - “i can feel you struggling against me, dyad. trust me.”

“trust you!” for the first time in a while, romilly laughs, but she doesn’t recognize the sound, short and clipped and drenched with bitterness and cynicism. part of her is trying to let go, to give up control and let aurelius take what he needed. another part of her pleads endlessly for him to stop, stricken with fear that he may go too far again. it was a constant, mental tug of war between an obedient soldier and a traumatized girl. what could she do if she were both? “i’m trying.” rounding on him again, she’s stopped short by a blast of necrotic energy, and nearly loses her footing before she feels something akin to an adrenaline rush steadying her.

he’s giving it back to me.

“don’t go easy on me.” the words slip from her tongue before she has a chance to think about them. she’s reminded of the many times she said them to her brother in their youth, but this wasn’t a friendly spar between junior officers. it isn’t her place to give commands to any superior, nevermind the heir to her house, that much had been drilled into her since her childhood - but this one she feels she can get away with. “i can get up when i fall.” is this really what he thought of her? that she was so weak she needed to use his necromancy as her crutch when she stumbled?

could she blame him for thinking so?

romilly starts again, walking a quick half-circle around her necromancer before stepping in and lunging towards him with her rapier. she tries to let her muscle memory guide her, to enter some sort of mindless physicality to let aurelius pull her thalergy without resistance. or, at least, with less resistance. the sensation still spurred that seed of panic within her, but she inhaled deeply, imagining that perhaps that’s what her brother used to do when he struggled.

relax.

remus’ voice cuts through the noise once more, and for the first time since they were paired three months prior, romilly begins to slowly dismantle the walls she’s built, inch by harrowing inch.

ghxstunwilling

aurelius felt the shift before he saw it—the sudden, subtle slackening of resistance in the thalergy he pulled from her. it was like loosening a too-tight knot, tension unspooling thread by thread. not gone, not entirely, but easing. it was the closest thing to trust she had ever given him, and he didn’t let the moment pass unnoticed. his instincts told him to push, to take advantage of that wavering hesitation, but for once, he held back. he watched instead.

she was moving differently now—less like a ghost of her brother, less like a soldier following orders, and more like herself. as if the lessons and training that had been drilled into her started taking over, sending her into the familiar movements he'd seen not just ten minutes prior. that was what he needed from his cavalier. not mimicry. not blind obedience. her.

aurelius huffed a short, amused breath, a dangerous kind of satisfaction curling in his chest. good. it was one thing for her to follow his commands and another for her to take charge just as he needed her to. just as an heir's primary needed to. he saw the moment it clicked for her—the inhale, the exhale. the walls she had so carefully built were lowering, just slightly. it was progress. it was something.

he moved with her, seamlessly shifting in tandem, testing this new give-and-take between them. a back and forth as he siphoned thalergy from her and funnelled it back with his next offensive move. he knew the limits of the human body by instinct and experience, and he was not going to leave this room until he got that point across—that he wouldn't take more than he could give back, not from her. not again. he needed romilly to trust him to determine the fine line between life and death. it was his realm, and he would rule it as he saw fit.

after a few more manoeuvres, the exercise started to wear him down; as he slowed to say, "do you understand now?" he shot forward with a short burst, pressing into her space as he filled her muscles with renewed energy. this was what they needed—to fight not against each other, but with each other. if she was ready to trust him, even a little, then it was time for her to prove it. "you get up because i won't let you fall. when we're on the field, do you think we'd survive for long if i constantly drained you?" there had been an art to how he and remus balanced the scales. by the end, they had moved like a masterpiece—limbs tangled, chaos in motion. with romilly, it would be like learning how to paint all over again.

but aurelius know that at the end of the day, it didn't who had been assigned to him. they would all have been the same. "i need your head in the game, dyad. now more than ever."

#second cavalier : romilly #// my apologies this took 84 years!

bitsyarachne

The Second Necromancer was familiar, in the same way that Arachne could tell anyone a list of advisors and their reasonable descriptions. Perhaps a bit more known to her than that, though, as she'd taken care to actually listen when he spoke. At least some of the time. He wasn't a friend, but she didn't regard him as an enemy either. Unless of course he found a way to enact the idea of plain porridge upon them all. Then he'd move to the top of her list. "Ew." Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought as she finished off the bread she'd been working on when he arrived. "I thought you'd learned to have a bit of fun, Auri. It really won't kill you to indulge once in awhile." She pouted. What was it with men like him and being so hellbent on punishing themselves? Could they not brood and enjoy something with a bit of flavor? Stars above, she'd never understand the fear of using spices in one's food.

Arachne moved, hopping up on the table top to sit beside him, head turned to face the colonel with amusement. My my, he was testy this morning, wasn't he? He'd drank audacity from a cup too, if he thought for a moment he could tell her what to do. Her feet dangled over the edge of the table as she kicked them slowly back and forth, a giggle bubbling up in her throat, escaping as she reached down to swipe the ramekin of dark raspberry jam. It was blood red and not entirely smooth. His look gave away the imaginary bruise. She could picture it on his soul, mottled, and sensitive to the touch. She longed to press her thumb harder against the flesh, eagerly awaiting her reward in the form of a sharp intake of breath or a hiss of pain.

She leveled him with her most disappointed look. So he had kept the spinless Dyad after all. A pity. She was hoping to meet someone new, someone actually worthy of being at his side. "Everything's my business, darling, the whispers on Ida are far reaching, and I've always got an ear to them." She hummed, as she reached for another piece of bread from his plate. She broke off a portion of it, just as she'd warned she would do. Her knife drew the dark red sweetener across the bread, lathering it thickly before she brought it to her lips. She didn't stop the dribble at the corner of her mouth as she bit into it, letting the sticky fruit run over her lip, onto her chin, staining her pale skin. She swallowed down her bite, before baring her teeth at him, snapping them in his direction. Her tongue swept over her teeth, chasing away the remainder of the tart jelly.

Perhaps he was a visual learner? Surely he'd understand her suggestion for dealing with the obviously sensitive topic. And he'd told her to eat quietly, he'd never said anything about illustrating her thoughts in another way. He was an honorable man, perhaps he was caught up in duty and oaths, or whatever other bullshit he told himself to justify keeping Romilly at his back.

It was just a suggestion though. He didn't have to handle his cavalier problem the way she had so many times before. It was efficient though, if a little messy. She lifted her thumb to her chin, wiping away the jam, before bringing it to her mouth to lick it clean. Her eyes filled with bright mischief, as she set the ramekin back down on the table. "And here I thought you learned manners on Second House." She chided with a laugh, "What ever happened to please?" She grinned, though she had no intention of being quiet, she would move away from the topic now that her point had been made. "A key ring without keys and a single rule, an interesting start, isn't it? Have you explored very much?" She asked, inviting him to share as much or as little as he wanted.

ghxstunwilling

the colonel exhaled sharply through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh he’d give her. "there's nothing to indulge here save for bread and jam, unfortunately. if this place had any wildlife, i'm sure you'd already have a fire pit going. certainly, nobody would object." his eyes lifted up to see her cross over the table instead of around it, her heels clicking on the mahogany. there had never been peace wherever she was. so, why would it start now? he should have known the minute he spied her coming out of the third's ship.

it didn't phase him when he caught that look in her eye as she sat on the edge of the table....he knew exactly what it meant. aurelius, as honourable as he might be, was still just human. the thought had crossed his mind before—more than once. he'd be lying if he said it had never occurred to him to find a replacement for romilly. their first interaction after the oath had been awkward at best and pointless at worst. for all the presence that remus had had that could fill a room, his twin had been profoundly less. it was no surprise that arachne—cunning, sharp and infinitely intrusive arachne—had asked if he’d finally swapped cavaliers, as if they were commodities to be disposed of as she liked. he did not have third house sensibilities, that's for sure. the idea of treating a cavalier as disposable was a repulsive one, no matter how often people like arachne suggested otherwise. he felt sorry for gawain but she seemed to be managing with the crown princess in her own way.

perhaps the oath meant nothing to arachne, just a mouthful of words—a means to an end. she's outright said before that she thought he was wasting his time with romilly. in truth, he'd stuck by for remus. and perhaps that clinging to the remnants of his past made him lesser, weaker. perhaps, they were a match made in heaven. him and his primary.

her manicured fingers reached for his food as she spoke, and he didn’t bother trying to reclaim his bread—he’d sooner let her have the whole plate than give her the satisfaction of a fight over it. he drummed once against the table before he reached for his cup instead, taking a slow sip as she prattled on about whispers and long-reaching ears. arachne always did fancy herself the nexus of every scrap of information worth knowing. that was the third house in a nutshell—social creatures who wove themselves into every thread, whether they belonged there or not. spiders, the lot of them. and she, their queen.

still, she had a way of digging her nails in, finding the tiny, raw spaces under the armour he wore so well as he watched her devour her tart. he's heard the stories of her appetite before. there was no doubt about what she meant by that little show she put on. he set his cup down with a quiet clink, ignoring the mischief lighting up her eyes. he handed her a napkin as she placed the ramekin of jam back on the table. "please, wipe your mouth," he said dryly with a sardonic smile. he knew she wouldn't appreciate being told what to do, especially since she was already doing it anyway. aurelius leaned back slightly half expecting her to throw the napkin at him as he considered her question. "considering we only just arrived yesterday, nowhere we haven't passed. the beach. the garden." if she had been anyone else, perhaps he'd offered to look around together. "and you? where did you skitter of to last night?"

#third necromancer : arachne #// aurelius just can't help telling her what to do

thelovejournals

“I keep remembering — I keep remembering. My heart has no pity on me.”

— Henri Barbusse, The Inferno

#{ psyche : aurelius }

bitsyarachne

who: Aurelius Deuteros @ghxstunwilling where: dining hall when: morning after arrival

Arachne was not a morning person, not that she was really an anytime person either, but that was beside the point. She had a horrible habit of not sleeping, so rising early usually required the use of incentives. That typically came in the form of breakfast. She was absolutely ravenous, but that wasn't new. The familiar ache in her stomach was as normal to her as the slow rise and fall of her chest, indicating she was in fact, still breathing. Despite her dislike for the hour, she still took care in her appearance. Aesthetic mattered. She knew most of her companions couldn't understand it's value, but it wasn't a question on Ida. A lack of attention to detail led to vicious gossip and rumor on the Third House, and invited questions Arachne wouldn't be willing to answer. She wasn't about to give anyone on Canaan House something to talk about. At least, something she didn't intend for them to talk about.

By time she finally made it to the dining hall, the space was relatively empty and quiet. Good. She was in no mood for false pleasantries, not before she could dull the ache in her abdomen. When she wasn't quite as hungry she'd have a far easier time playing nice. That was, until she saw the spread on offer. A basket of crusty brown bread sat in a plain white cloth, with ramekins of golden butter and purple jam beside. She glared at the basket, as if her glare alone could transform it into something worthy of her attention. To her great annoyance and wild dismay, it remained steadfast as ever in the form of grain. Traitorous loaf.

Still, she'd eaten worse.

Arachne sat, sighing loudly as she procured her plate. Painted nails grasped the bread, breaking it apart to find that at least it was warm and filled with nuts and perhaps dried fruit. It wasn't hopeless after all. She'd have to set Gwen to work finding something more suitable before their noon meal came around, otherwise she would starve on this damned planet, and they couldn't have that. She lifted her gaze as a familiar face filled her peripheral. "Lieutenant Colonel," She greeted. Ugh. Gag her. "This was your doing, wasn't it?" Arachne scowled as she stabbed the silver knife into the little ramekin of yellow butter. "Some militaristic efficiency nonsense about caloric intake and ideal nutritional composition? You do understand we're here for trials, don't you? We need to eat, Auri." She huffed, pointing the knife toward him as she met him with a glare too, butter still coating the silver blade.

She drew the knife across the crusty brown bread. It wasn’t enough. Despite the smear of butter, the bread was still largely unappealing to the crown princess. Her stomach groaned in distress, as Arachne swiped the butter off. She brought the knife to her lips after, tongue sweeping over the butter still remaining. She wasn't going to waste a morsel of her food, no matter how strong her disapproval of the fare on offer remained.

“If this is your fault, I’m taking your portion too, warmonger.” She warned, placing the blame on the other necromancer regardless. “And where’s your shadow? I’ll eat hers too. She’s just a little spindly thing anyway. Unless you finally got a new Cavalier? Please tell me you did? It’s been so long since that little switcharoo, surely you’ve returned to your previously reasonable standards? I’m already disappointed with breakfast please don’t tell me I need to be disappointed with you too, any more than I usually am." In truth, Arachne wasn't sure exactly how long he'd had Romilly as his primary, but it was longer than it should have been regardless.

ghxstunwilling

his first night there had been fitful. plagued by nightmares that dogged him for weeks—of his former half, cold and bloodied in his arms. and dead.

aurelius woke with a sharp breath, the name on his tongue before he even realized he’d spoken it. "remus." his sheets were damp with sweat but he may as well have been slick with the gore he'd seen in his dreams, thick and irony—he remembered the taste of it. the real taste of it. having remus' blood in his mouth was something he'd never forget even if he could, even if he wanted to. it had been everywhere that evening on their last mission together, the one that had ended everything. now, there seemed to be less and less of him that aurelius clung on to whatever pieces of him that still came back in the dark. even if it meant he'd be haunted his whole life. if it was the only way he'd ever get his cavalier back, then so be it.

it was mornings like this that set the tone for his whole damned day—leaving him unmoored, aimless. but he could not afford to let that happen here. not on the planetary seat of the necrolord prime. not when they'd all been sent here to grasp at something so impossibly distant that only with the grace and divine expectation of their god would they succeed.

his gaze flicked over to his right, spotting the outline of romilly's still frame on the cot, back turned toward him. good. he didn't want to have to look at her. whether or not she slept as terribly as he did, he didn't know nor had he the patience to wait to find out.

there was a mantra in the cohort on the second—routine over circumstance. it had been the rhythm that he and remus had lived by over the decade, constantly moving with purpose, precision and discipline. it would be no different here on the first house. misery or dreamless sleep, aurelius would rise. though, on this planet, he wasn’t even sure if the sun rose the way it should. his body, however, obeyed—rousing from his half-awake state. he exhaled sharply, ran a hand over his face, and swung his legs over the bed. time to move.

he put his solitude to good work by combing through the library. once he's had enough of a frustrating mix of useless tomes and eroticas, his stomach finally growled—a clear sign that it was time to find something more nourishing than disappointment.

he expected the humble offerings of bread and butter. not the less than humble princess of ida.

"highness," he returned the formality though they both knew they were far to familiar for any of it to matter. he let her ramble on. once there was an obvious pause, he said, a playful bite to his words, "if this was my doing, you'd have plain porridge." there was something oddly comforting to have her here. she was arguably one of the few among them who'd grown up with him. in a twisted way, she was like the only family he actually had on this desolate island. what a grim thought. despite that, he thought perhaps he'll start to think more fondly of her. until she brought up romilly.

he didn't like talking about her. not with people who didn't remotely understand. she was a necromancer who chewed through her cavaliers like they were pieces of candy. he'd never understand her, nor she him. so, he leveled a sharp look at her, his earlier smile falling away. "dyad isn't your business. talk about something else or eat your food quietly."

#third necromancer : arachne #// pls accept my lengthy ramble

+++ picking up right from the plot drop; a closed starter for the hole squad ( @secondswords > @bellemaledictions > @rhinerapier )

naturally gravitating toward each other, trusting in a fellow soldier's discipline and tactical awareness, second and fourth houses had been drawn together by a shared suspicion—something about canaan house felt too quiet. the key rings, given without instruction, the locked doors, the knowledge that this place once created something as powerful as the lyctors—all of it had been a puzzle neither could ignore. like a trained squad, they had ventured together into the depths of the south side basement and found that there was access into a hidden space beneath a loosened manhole. on a technicality that room had not, in fact, been locked.

they had spent a few moments looking around before aurelius came to a stop at the threshold of LABORATORY 2, the scent of mildew thick in his nose. his fingers flexed at his sides, not for lack of control, but calculation—muscle memory aligning itself to whatever fight might present itself.

he did not like this.

not because of the dark, or the rot, or the silence that felt somehow aware. not because of philly’s wary observations or the meek fidgeting of romilly’s fingers against her dagger hilt. he did not like this because there was nothing. a sealed room, stripped bare, with only two labeled doors and the gnawing sense that someone had been here long before them and had made damn sure they wouldn’t leave anything behind.

mercurio’s voice cut through the stagnant air, his casual words failing to mask the thread of tension beneath them, "that can't be a good sign. literally."

aurelius exhaled slowly, his breath misting. "no, it’s not," he murmured. his gaze traced the letters: Response. Imaging. clinical. specific. indicating some sort of test.

his first plan of action was simple: find what the second house was meant to find. if this was a test then the second didn’t sit around waiting for answers to present themselves. they pursued.

he glanced at philly. "lets looks behind the doors," he said. "dyad, you’re with me. chaur, you stick with your necromancer."

#// sorry for the length! was just setting the mood. feel free to shorten. in fact please do!#second cavalier : romilly #fourth necromancer : philly #fourth cavalier : mercurio

areteus

closed starter for @ghxstunwilling !

𝓘t hadn’t even been a few hours into their arrival to the Caanan house, and Rio felt the feeling to be alone. He’d made up an excuse of leaving Philly to ‘get settled in’— as if there was much to do in the room they’d been provided. Rio didn’t have a lot of personal artifacts that they’d brough along, and neither did Philly. Anything that Rio needed fit cleanly in one standard-sized duffel bag, and a bag that he slung over his shoulder when they’d arrived. Sure, there were weapons, but they had been told to keep those on their person anyway.

Caanan house had a sandy beach— not corse sand that Bells had seen in New Rho. One that his mama had taken him to— the water too murky for him to swim in, but they went deep enough to get their feet wet, they'd eaten chicken on a stick afterwards, and a few weeks after that outing: Bells had been stationed on the fourth house. The beach at Caanan house had softer sand, and when Rio yanked off his shoes and put his standard rapier to the side to sit down on the sand, he immediately reaized that he would not be able to wear his shoes again until he washed up.

It was nice, though. Dominicus seemed almost bloated from the First House. It was so much bigger here than it was back at home (back at Rio’s home). It was also warm, the setting Domincus sun lit the backs of Rio’s eyes with a warm orange when they closed their eyes. Back in New Rho, their sun was unforgiving. Domincus was warm, the soft lapping of waves and the cool breeze made Bells let out a deep, heavy breath. They were here, they were so frighteningly close to finishing the job. After years of close calls, of slip-ups, of a frantic codes sent in radiobuzz telling him to abort the mission… he was on the First House. God was only be a stupid lyctorhood trial away. Bells was about to drift off, head dropping to be cradled in their knees until they heard the shifting of sand behind them. They glanced back, eyes going wide as saucers when they saw the lietenant colonel almost a few paces away. Rio almost slipped and fell down with the speed he got up to salute.

“Good evening, Colonel Duteros— uh, ah.” His salute went lax, confused on how hard pressed they were going to be for rules on Caanan house, “I’m Specialist Chaur… I served on the frontline during the mission on Chohines…” He dropped out of the salute, “Does being on the Caanan house mean we’re on equal standing?” he asked with a boyish grin-- obviously joking, “After all, we’re all trying to accomplish the same thing, right?”

ghxstunwilling

stepping off the docks and into the heat of the first house, aurelius felt the weight of it settle against his skin like a tangible thing, heavy and golden. the air smelled briny, like the sea had eaten the bones of something ancient and left the marrow behind to sour. the stone was pale as a bleached carcass, carved into spires so thin and delicate they looked like they might snap beneath the weight of their own history.

this place was old. older than the second house, older than war, older than the oath his people had sworn to serve and fight. he had never stood on a world like this, one left abandoned and untouched, where the past bled through every crack in the marble. to step onto this island was to step into something half-dead, half-alive, some purgatory between history and myth.

and yet—here they were.

the iron key ring in his palm left to him by the teacher was an unexpected challenge. no keys, no guidance—just the slow, sinking weight of the emperor’s will pressing down on them all. lyctorhood was the terrible, shining promise that loomed above the sixteen of them who had stood in the atrium of a decaying canaan house beofre dispersing to do as they willed not more than an hour ago.

aurelius had chosen the path to the beach. it was little more than a half-forgotten scar along the earth, a winding thing half-swallowed by creeping vines and the steady encroachment of nature. he followed it anyway, leaving romilly behind to settle in given how nervous she was earlier.

the beach itself was narrow, a strip of pale sand caught between the restless lap of the waves and the jagged cliffside. and there—seated at the water’s edge, nodding off—was philly's new partner.

aurelius took a moment, assessing. the fourth cavalier was relaxed but guarded in the way of someone used to the military considering how he shot up at the sound of his boots on the sand. he had a feeling he might like this guy.

"at ease, chaur. standing on ceremony should be the least of your concerns. besides, this isn't the second or the fourth or even chohines." no, aurelius wouldn’t take offense if chaur didn’t straighten up and salute, if he didn’t call him colonel deuteros with crisp formality. but he’d be paying attention. to everyone around him. shifting his gaze to the open ocean, he asked "didn't take you for the solitary type. what’s wrong? first house too crowded for you already?"

#fourth cavalier : mercurio

secondswords

like a beckoned dog, remus appears when aurelius speaks his name. the image is fleeting, a momentary apparition to the necromancer's left, but the sight of them together - side by side, the way they should be - is enough to raise goosebumps on the back of romilly's neck. she turns her face away, a wave of nausea washing over her. "...you may as well sli-" he doesn't have to finish the sentence for her to know where it was headed. his words were knives, harsh & stinging, rousing anger out of her despair.

hot tears of frustration prick the corners of her eyes, and she's about to tell him to keep remus' name out of his mouth (although she knew she had no right, although if anyone should be barred from speaking his name, it was her), but that's when the sensation hits her. without warning, he's absorbing her thalergy. it brings back what few memories she has of that god-awful day, of aurelius so overcome with emotion that he had been willing to dredge her dry just to save her brother.

"asshole," she mutters through gritted teeth.

he's being far gentler now than he was then, but she can't help the way she resists him. it's automatic, a survival instinct after she'd been brought to her knees, her vision faded to black by the same sensation just twelve weeks prior. and yet - "move." she's been given a command. she has a job to do. the tears are blinked away, and she makes a grab for her rapier. her nervous system is straining, trying to fight aurelius off even as her brain tries to allow him to work, because as much as she may despise it, this is her duty now. she unsheathes her weapon and twists to narrowly avoid aurelius' offense.

the formations she needed to take were typically second nature to her, but drilling them on her own or with the other cavaliers was different than with aurelius. she finds herself itching to do what remus would have done, to lead with brute force, a strong and formidable offense, but that's not what she was instructed to do. so instead, she picks up the pace, her steps light and quick as she advances. relax. her brother's voice echoes in her mind, urging her to let her guard down, to let aurelius pull the thalergy from her. relax.

easier said than done.

she brings her rapier up to swing across her body, towards aurelius. her heart thudded in her ears, the consistent draining of thalergy causing it to pump just a little harder than usual, a little faster. she wouldn't hurt him - that would guarantee remus haunts her for life, she thinks - but just a tap, and he'd be fine. like a duel, to the first touch. or, perhaps, a shove to the floor. if aurelius wanted a fight, then a fight was what he'd get.

ghxstunwilling

aurelius couldn't help the grin that started to form when romilly called him an asshole. that was more reaction from her in weeks. he was being an asshole. it was like finally scratching the itch that had been gnawing at him for longer than he cared. he could be worse, he'll admit. she hadn't yet caught a true glimpse of his temper. when she settled into her stance, he braced himself for the change he didn't think would come—preparing for the moment he'd notice her stepping into her brother's skin like a ghost, trying to move like him and wield his sword with the same precision, the same grace and failing.

but when she deflected, he started to see a difference.

she was not fumbling trying to be bigger than she was this time. in fact, she was faster than he'd anticipated. more confident and less performative. a surge of satisfaction coursed through him as he barely avoided her swing's full-force, twisting, making his hitbox smaller. still, she got him. he felt a small sting on his upper arm just below where the dark ring of a broken ouroboros inked his right shoulder. clear beneath the open light fabric of his shirt, blood seeped, and just as quickly as the line of red formed, the cut healed itself. courtesy of her thalergy that flowed through him. he nodded his approval before once more siphoning the life energy from its unwilling donor.

this time, he fought like a second house officer—fast, precise, and relentless.

he took a fraction more thalergy from her than he did just a minute ago, the same amount he would have if she'd been remus. her resistance was something they had to work on if they wanted to learn how to move in tandem. intuitively, he directed her thalergy into himself, quickening his reflexes to match hers. he let her lead as she advanced on him—moving where her feet manoeuvred him, avoiding where her rapier speared as he shot spikes of necrotic energy up from beneath them, trusting that her now lighter footwork would save her. "i can feel you struggling against me, dyad. trust me," aurelius gritted out as he pushed back, sending a shockwave of his necrotic magic her way. but before she could stumble, he returned a sliver of his own thalergy to keep his partner upright. they had to become a truly adept necromancer-cavalier duo before they could attain lyctorhood—blur the line between fighter and wielder entirely, but they were out of time to reach there. coming to an understanding would be their best option now.

this training wasn't a test to see how well she could fight. he had no doubts about that. she had already proven she was a good combatant.

it was a test to see how well she could resist fighting him. a test she's yet to pass.

#second cavalier : romilly

secondswords

the second aurelius entered romilly's line of sight, her breath caught. it wasn't her brother's eyes boring into her after all, but this was arguably worse. as her footing returned to her, steady after a moment, she sheathed her rapier and assumed the position of attention - feet close together, chin up, shoulder blades back. it was easier to talk to him this way, to pretend he was just a superior officer - not the person she'd sworn to protect with her life, not the only other person who could have known remus with the same intimacy she did, or perhaps even better.

her face burned with shame as she took in his words, doing her best not to flinch as they hit her ears. "i'm sorry." she resisted the urge to call him 'sir;' it felt too formal for what they were now. "i've been trying to... provide you with the... experience you're used to." she chose her words carefully, unsure how exactly he'd react to them. "but if my performance has been unsatisfactory to you, then i apologize."

something in her aimed to please him, to give him what he wanted and gain his approval. i'll step down, she longed to say, remus can have this damn position back, i don't want it. but of course, that was impossible, and there was little she could do to please aurelius in that regard. all she could truly offer him was a simple statement, "i'll do better. i'll be - different."

but could she be? aurelius didn't know about what she saw, who visited her in her sleep or crept into her vision during the waking hours. the footwork she could change, but the paranoia, she feared, may be here to stay.

ghxstunwilling

the... experience you're used to.

the only trace of his vexation at that thought was the slight grimace on his face. there—the corners of his mouth had become a shadow of a snarling animal. he did not like it, the way his necromancer spoke of remus. an experience. as if anything or anyone else could surmount to the singularity of his and remus' relationship. no one could replace remus. not even his own sister. especially not his sister. despite the fact that aurelius' breath sometimes caught looking into romilly's eyes, the same shade of blue he'd looked into for a decade, he quickly found that the depth he had so often happily drowned in was gone. ice cold and impotent.

aurelius was tired of tip-toeing around the pain. he had been a good soldier and channelled it into everything else except at the one person he knew was probably suffering as much as he. but the words tumbled past his lips, dark blue-green hues staring deep in her piercing blues, "i don't need you to be remus. but if you're so hell-bound on becoming him, you may as well sli—" slit your own throat, were the word he was going to say before he cut himself off. it was unfair of him—he knew that romilly had little to no fault in her brother's death. he had to remind himself it was the BOE.

"you say you want to do better. prove it. pick up your rapier. we're going to train." his demand was punctuated by the sensation he knew was now overtaking her senses—of having her life force drawn. just a drop. aurelius was tapping into his necromantic system, turning life to death to necrotic damage. just a drop. it should be nothing compared to how he had drained her that day just three months ago. just a drop. it was more than what remus had had left. "move," he commanded as he stepped forward to send a bolt of atrophy her way, aiming right at her chest where her heart would be.

#second cavalier : romilly

+++ closed starter for a comrade who understands too much ( @bellemaledictions )

with summer's strong, sun-warmed hands tracing the edges of canaan house, one could almost feel the ancient lands leaning into the golden heat, gripped and given in equal measure. the sounds of the ocean breaking on the rocks, calloused from labor and abandon, echoed through the marbled hallways of the fortress, an untended house that received birdsong as sustenance—as if a tall tale could sate an empty stomach.

and just as starved as the ruins were was the second necromancer.

since getting the key ring, aurelius had been determined to uncover what it all meant. their objectives were painfully obvious—to open some locked doors. but how? and where were those doors? the teacher had left them with only more questions and fewer answers.

after a couple of hours of walking the floors of numerous terraces, he called out to a nearby construct with a snap of his fingers. the necromancer spoke to it "look at this." non-blinking eyes turned to look at the empty key-ring on the palm of his open hand. if their objectives were so obvious, perhaps their methods should be as well. "if i were to look for keys that could fit into this ring, where should i look first?" he asked, just as he saw a familiar face approaching him from around the corner. he sent a sheepish grin her way as he greeted philly with a nod and then a shrug. "thought i'd try asking the locals."

#fourth necromancer : philly

thelovejournals

“Amputees suffer pains, cramps, itches in the leg that are no longer there. That is how she felt without him, feeling his presence where he no longer was.”

— Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

#{ psyche }

fuligxn

who: open. when: shortly after arrival. where: the shore.

the fifth was a planet of storms. eternal storms, broiling across the planet, catching the inhabitants in wind, in red skies, in constant upheaval.

bedivere called that place his home, had learned how to stay solid under constant upheaveal, under the mercurial nature of the elements. he had learned how to exist in the fluidity of his home too, the way he had been told to be the perfect bureaucrat, and had found some comfort in the way that he could shift his face to fit the whims of the conversation. a slight bit of change could grease a conversation this way or that, provide the best outcome for any part involved.

so perhaps that's why he feels so out of sorts on this planet. this planet, with weather that is more stoic than not, this planet kept austere and unchanging. he wonders how old this building it, how long it has been since it felt the weight of so many within it.

with all this solidity, all this permanence, is it any wonder that he turns towards the water?

so find him here, on the beach, in the crisp light of early day, hands tugging at his shirt, unaware of anyone else on the land besides the sea. he's so caught up in the fantasy of pushing his body through wave, of pulling a body into a point of ache, that he doesn't notice another person approaching. in retrospect, he suppose he should have paid more attention. with a faint tip of his head, he tries not belay a sense of being off kilter-- "i hope you haven't been standing there long?"

ghxstunwilling

it took a few moments for aurelius' eyes to adjust to the brightness of this planet. the sounds of waves crashing onto the shore held a quality of omnipotence. it was everywhere and nowhere all at once. the horizon was built of hues that flooded up into the vast skies—cerulean and lapis, shades of blue he'd only ever seen in books, were not as rich as this. it was a sight so unlike the red planetary seat of the second house. the sand here, at least, did not whip his face.

for a moment, his mind stopped drifting to the constant thought of remus. of how instead of romilly, remus should be standing here sharing the glory and ordeal of attaining lyctorhood with him. for a moment, the weight and presence pressed into the fabric of the world that bore down on the chambers of his heart seemed to dissipate. the aching emptiness that throbbed like a severed limb ceased haunting him like a phantom. for one brief moment. enough to take in the balmy and salted air of the land.

then, all at once, it surged back as aurelius spotted a figure by the water's edge. breaking the small reverie he had borrowed from the endless beauty of the first house. remembering the trials and why they were actually here.

drawn to the shore just as much as who he assumed to be another lyctoral candidate, aurelius approached the stranger.

"not at all," he said, coming to a stop with enough personal space between them. aurelius rubbed his hand against his chest as if easing away a dull pain, smoothing his uniform. taking in the colours the other adorned, he asked "fifth house?"

#fifth cavalier : bedivere

userkhael

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET as Paul Atreides Dune 2021, Dir. Denis Villeneuve

#{ visage }

secondswords

who: open when: a few days after arrival where: the pool room

it's early, too early for her to be awake, and yet, here she is. sleep did not come easy to her, but regardless, she enjoyed the early morning hours. the air is colder, crisper at this hour, and canaan house is even more still than it usually seems. after quietly slipping out of the second's quarters, rapier and daggers in tow, romilly made her way to the pool room. she'd visited this room once or twice now, but had not yet had the space to herself.

the training space brought her an odd sense of comfort. being a part of the cohort was never what she dreamed of, but it was all she knew, and running through some of her rapier drills brought familiarity to an unfamiliar place. the motions were performed by rote, purely muscle memory - the passing lunge, the squaring of her shoulders with her hips, the swipe of the blade against the air. it allowed her to clear her head, to ignore what she swore was her brother's lifeless gaze against her back.

when she finally did turn to repeat the drill on the opposite side, she stumbled, caught off-guard by a visitor that was notably not an undead apparition. "oh!" romilly couldn't help but gasp, her shoulders tensing as she regained her footing. she nearly let the rapier slip from her grasp. "i'm sorry - i didn't hear you come in."

ghxstunwilling

on the field, a warm bed for the night hadn't always been an option. so, being used to harder and colder comforts, it's no surprise that aurelius had sought some solace among the flora in the terrace on a garden bench. he hadn't meant to spend the night alone and out of their designated quarters but he could not stand more awkward silences between himself and romilly. or worse, awkward conversations.

when at last sleep had done it's best, aurelius awoke still tired. he started making his way back to his room through the dimness of the intermedial hour. not fully night. not yet day. being in between everything was a sentiment that haunted him frequently these days. a circumstance that left him at an impasse—what to do about his cavalier? the oath had been made and therefore irrefutable even if he wanted a new cavalier. no, he didn't want a new cavalier. he wanted his old one back.

but of course god has a terrible sense of humour when it came to this.

the sounds of someone's footwork on the tiled floors of the pool room caught his attention. the steps so familiar to his ear that he could close his eyes and see remus maneuvering beside him. except, these footsteps were faster and lighter and just off-beat enough to be jarring to his ears. there was skill there, aurelius was sure of it. he watched his cavalier from beneath the arch of the doorway. silent. observant. her drills said more to him than she ever did. and of course, she stumbled the moment she saw him.

"why don't you ever move like that when we train?" his words were uncomplicated yet demanding. "you should stop being-" your brother. "-so...nervous all the time."