HEAVEN IN HIDING!

my heart is BURSTING! my head is on OVERLOAD! my lines are TWISTING, and i want MORE!

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northernsfury‌:

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IN A WHIRLWIND OF MOTION, clive in the palm of the king’s hand, pooling and adoring and worshipping, to be under him became a revelation of its own. and the pattern of his breathing became a hymn they ached to memorize and selfishly keep on the beige crease of a page, and oh, he’s so thoughtful. even amidst the blazing fierce of want want want, he’s calling for clive, asking. clive nods then, delightfully shocked, eyes wide and affectionate like the fullest moon watching over a pair of storybook lovers painting midnight with their sprawled, grassy fondness. they hung on each other like that grand artistry upon the wall above them. clive begins shucking their own gown, bringing it to their knees and offering that nicholas pursue the rest. 

“it is my greatest wish to be completely bare before you, your majesty,” they say, taking on the skin of a minx now, slow and certain, honey-like. their heart is on fire and nicholas is as primal as clive had ever had the pleasure of seeing him, and now they were determined to find a balance in their chaos. still, clive squirms where they lied, aching for him beyond lusty determination. then they snake a hand down their still clothed heat, where clive is most sensitive! covered with frill and now the pale of their hand, kneading themself. their eyes never leave nicholas, shadowed through lashes with craving. they would put on a show for his highness, the cherry flesh of their lower lip caught between teeth like prey. looking up at him now, nicholas is the sun. clive lets out a filthy moan, “have me, take me  —  i feel feverish, my heart, make me yours.”

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EACH TRACE, TOUCH leaves a thrill in its wake. clive is alive with nick’s affections, perhaps that’s what this was  —  his highness breathing life into clive until they’re plump and flushed, satisfied, overwhelmed with the weight of it all. nothing has quite felt like his hands, not being sun warm and not the silk of the curtains. not performing even, no, it could never be this intimate, though they always try and try. clive adores their crowds but nick was the universe and, well, who could deny the universe when it’s speaking sweetly of your dreams?

a sound from clive, pleased, hums into the air and fizzles out into a faint echo meeting the far too fine wood and decoration. static, and the memory of fireflies, and him! all over like weather! even behind clive’s eyes when they shut briefly, leaning back into his majesty, hips rocking, mourning each place he moved on from but adoring the new patches of white he christened. breath HITCHES at his boldness, my oh my! so clive’s body defies them, jolts, bubbles up, and so they turn, curt like harsh wind. and the look on their face, goodness, clive could feel the heat pooling in their cheeks, red as cherries even through blotchy white, making it look cheap and tacky. making them look like an ugly duckling. not to nick, though. but perhaps a tad silly, unspoken. clive situates themselves atop nick’s lap, gestures gently at their chest, pushing, wordlessly asking him to lie down. clive takes their place on the throne! how hilarious! so from looking up at swirls of stars to down at his highness, every movement jittering with the rapid inspiration of his presence, of his grand chest and his silhouette, all divine. clive is a figure of motion now, all frantic energy and want, vibrating out of themselves as if rediscovering nicholas in each moment. looking will never be enough, so they reach to touch, hands, mouth, latching to where they can reach. a bite to his jaw will suffice, and their hands are roaming along his forearms where they lie. “take me, nicholas, my heart,” they pant in a fierce moment of need, hips dipping down once, twice, in search, gown holding on for dear life around the motion of clive’s hips. “ravish me  —  oh, you’ve ruined everyone for me, my dearest king. and i might die if  —  unh, nick, i beg of you, you’ll kill me if — ”

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northernsfury‌:

            TIME  ,  WHICH  MARCHES  FORWARD  ,  suddenly  spins  around  them  and  regardless  of  not  knowing  what  occurs  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  door  ,  it  seems  as  if  all  time  has  stopped  for  them  .  slow  motion  as  nicholas  takes  his  precious  time  ,  getting  to  know  every  inch  of  clive  that  he  has  yet  to  meet  .  namely  ,  for  the  moment  ,  their  mouth  .  plush  ,  bright  lips  met  by  a  king’s  hunger  for  more  .  and  he’ll  take  what  he  can  get  ,  every  second  more  special  than  the  last  .  even  parting  the  small  distance  that  they  do  ,  nick  is  left  to  pout  –  but  redness  overcomes  him  and  soon  ,  a  smile  replaces  said  pout  .  the  compliments  only  further  his  complexion’s  color  ,  but  his  stomach  is  filled  with  butterflies  .  to  be  anyone’s  ,  other  than  a  king  is  a  gift  he  has  never  known  .  a  gift  he  loves  very  much  so  .  a  finger  is  lifted  to  swollen  lips  ,  smudged  with  whites  and  reds  as  nicholas  tries  to  fix  the  portrait  he’s  painted  .  perhaps  he  is  an  artist  after  all  !    ❝    i’ve  …  i’ve  completely  smudged  this  ,    ❞    a  nervous  chuckle  followed  by  bashful  giggles  .  

            there’s  a  gasp  emitted  –  a  good  gasp  ,  the  best  of  gasps  !  his  heartbeat  rings  in  his  ears  and  though  difficult  to  hear  ,  nicholas  is  truly  thankful  he  understands  clive’s  words  .  pressing  himself  forward  and  into  where  his  hand  has  been  guided  ,  he  nods  .    ❝    god  ,  yes  …  both  …  both  of  those  …    ❞    barely  a  whisper  ,  grabbing  at  their  gown  to  feel  what  lies  underneath  .    ❝    to  touch  you  …  to  please  you  …  of  how  you  sing  when  my  fingers  dance  across  your  skin  …    ❞    his  head  is  clouded  with  imagery  and  fantasy  ,  all  with  the  possibility  of  becoming  reality  .  never  has  he  felt  so  lucky  .  sweat  beads  on  his  forehead  and  though  he  would  enjoy  to  continue  feeling  the  other  where  his  hand  rests  ,  nicholas  uses  them  to  untie  the  front  of  his  shirt  .  with  dressing  as  a  commoner  ,  he  adorns  less  clothing  .  another  strike  of  luck  ,  he  thinks  .  white  cloth  is  lifted  over  his  head  and  tossed  farther  away  .  his  heart  is  in  his  throat  ,  and  yet  he  still  attempts  to  speak  ,  clearing  his  throat  .    ❝    may  i  undress you  and  help  you  slip  out  of  that  beautiful  gown  ,  my  clive  ?    ❞  questioned  as  the  king’s  hands  are  already  back  on  his  bard  .

FOND WORDS, the bridge between clive and the king, nicholas, their heart, tethering them together in a moment sweeter than a cherry dessert. hums at his highness mixing pigment with a touch, gentle, eyes heavy in adoration. “no,” they say decidedly, a small smile settling into place. all for him. “you’ve made me beautiful.” 

the flinch in grip from nick comes as waves of relief, pools of it, oceans of it. and clive might be feeling emotion in whole bodies of water! it’s all so much so fast, crashing into nicholas with this fast-paced yearning! so they can’t quite help the stuttering sound pushed from the threshold of a smudged white throat, a sound for him, wanting him, asking for him. a thankful sound, even. please, they think, never take your hands off of me. “i’ll only ever sing for you, my heart, this i promise.” they say, whimsy, hips subtly swiveling and letting out a withheld breath once that touch is gone. 

eyes find moving, working fingers, then into sight comes the stark of nick’s chest where clive is becoming a gaping, adoring shell of their usual theatrics. hands, hesitant, reach to touch. my stars, so hairy, so mighty. at the question, they’re snapped from their attempted exploration. their eyes meet his, bright with an idea. “my universe,” cups either side of his neck, beckoning him forward, backward steps. “i’m an entertainer by nature, you see,” they explain, urging his highness to take a seat on the side of the bed. clive slots between his sitting legs, and pushes the strap of their gown down one pale shoulder, teasing, face all delicately smug. “..and i’ve shown off for many men and women, all decent, none as beautiful as you.” certain, clive reaches for nick’s wrists, brings them to the curve of where hips and waist meet, urging him to feel them up and around, gown hitching with it. “i’ve unraveled at the thought of you, oh, it’s so embarrassing  —  in my dreams, you take me by my hips, you, all vivid and clear and set on what you want, and you make me yours that way.” clive picks up a sway in their hips like a leaf riding a breeze, back and forth as if to a tune but the room is only alive with the melody of their words and breaths. clive turns around as they sway in place, begins humming a song, somewhat hoarse. the second strap is pushed over the cliff of white, round, and the soft of the gown falls and halts at clive’s hips where the material tightens a smidge.

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northernsfury‌:

            PANIC  THREATENS  TO  DROWN  HIMSELF  as  a  moment  passes  .  the  few  seconds  of  silence  between  them  is  deafening  .  nicholas  hears  his  heartbeat  in  his  ears  and  must  remind  himself  to  breathe  .  had  he  been  so  foolish  ?  to  think  anyone  could  look  past  the  crown  he  wore  ?  the  vision  of  a  fantasy  has  been  cracked  and  nick  finds  himself  desperate  to  repair  it  .  his  face  twists  into  even  more  of  an  offense  at  the  mention  of  a  kindness  .    ❝    that’s  not  a  kindness  !  i  don’t  want  to  leave  you  !    ❞    a  tear  falls  as  he  speaks  and  it’s  wiped  away  as  soon  as  it  had  appeared  .  more  than  anything  ,  he’s  frustrated  .  all  he  wants  is  for  the  other  to  see  themselves  how  nick  sees  them  –  perfectly  beautiful  and  kind  .  their  stations  matter  not  to  him  and  whatever  obstacles  they  face  will  be  worth  it  .  to  him  , at  least  ,  would  they  agree  ?  the  way  he  feels  toward  clive  is  overpowering  enough  to  have  nick  be  impulsive  and  greedy  .  he  just  hopes  they  do  see  him  as  he  wishes  to  be  seen  ,  as  a  simple  man  who  wants  to  be  with  them  ,  more  than  anything  .

            any  sorrow  and  pain  caused  by  false  intentions  melt  away  at  the  reassurance  .  he  nestles  his  cheek  into  clive’s  touch  ,  eyes  closing  while  they  speak  .  something  nicholas  had  failed  to  consider  was  how  all  of  these  newfound  appearances  would  affect  clive  .    ❝    you  have  my  apologizes  ,  i  …  i’m  sorry  this  has  been  hard  on  you  .  you  are  not  a  beggar  ,  i  adore  you  immensely  !  i  feel  like  myself  with  you  ,  like  i  am  more  than  a  man  put  on  a  pedestal  and  i  want  to  be  more  than  that  for  you  .    ❞    it  was  true  –  his  deepest  desires  ,  dreams  ,  whatever  he  wished  to  share  ,  he  felt  comfortable  with  clive  .  they  reminded  him  of  better  times  and  the  opportunity  to  be  a  better  ,  more  caring  man  .    ❝    i  will  remind  you  as  much  as  you  need  ,  that  you  are  beautiful  ,  sweet  ,  my  very  clive  …  however  you  appear  ,  however  you  are  .  your  place  is  wherever  you  wish  it  to  be  ,  though  preferably  here  …  with  me  .    ❞    he  hums  happily  ,  practically  skipping  forward  at  the  grip  around  his  waist  .    ❝    the  universe  ?    ❞    his  tone  is  cheery  ,  a  giggle  pouring  out  of  him  in  disbelief  .    ❝    i  forgive  you  and  you  have  always  been  beautiful  ,  my  sweet  .    ❞    nicholas  peers  back  at  clive  ,  their  eyes  locked  and  he  gives  a  genuine  smile  ,  more  than  he  has  in  a  while  .  again  ,  he  kisses  their  beautifully  bright  lips  ,  so  passionately  .  with  a  step  forward  ,  deepening  the  kiss  with  tongue  and  getting  carried  away  .    ❝    i  want  you  ,  as  you  are  and  i  am  yours  for  as  long  as  you’ll  have  me  .  now  ,  let’s  enjoy  our  evening  ,  shall  we  ?    ❞  said  when  pulled  away  for  a  breath  just  before  returning  to  their  lips  .

TURNED AROUND AND things are quite sweetened, tooth-achingly by a requited goal, adoration, thriving in awaited lonesome, longing meeting with its loveliest resolve. so the stars have returned to clive’s eyes but they only reflect his highness, perhaps he is made of them! all forgiving and sincere. made up of all purities unmatched with gossip and stigma. clive wonders, how differently the people would feel should they have the opportunity, the blessing, to see his majesty in such a state; wiped clean of guilt if only for now, and faced with the pleasure of connection. clive takes his words and stores them away in their mind, keeps them close, even if some cannot be registered completely. it was the kind words of affection they had always wanted, and upon receiving, can’t seem to fully digest as if a sour but hearty sunday meal. clive will try their very best. 

met with fleshy passion, clive hums sugary into the kiss they shared. a gift, clive thinks, my most treasured gift. they open up promptly for him, all smooth slides and instances of marrying breath. to be kissed by nick was to be seen, was to be beautiful, was to be cared for in the small frame of time they had known and adored and courted each other in pure infatuation. to be explored, like this, all wet heat and sincerity. when they part, it’s agonizing but clive’s eyes on the king’s kissed flush was a new sort of gift. they exhale heavily, and the invitation spreads out a breathy smile across clive’s milky white, smudged expression. a hand then lifts to smooth along the skin of this sweet man’s cheek, holding. “nothing has yet to hold a candle to your beauty and grace, my nicholas. you are well suited to make even gods green with envy,” said amidst a mild, fluttering chuckle. another sweet twist of a kiss before clive parts them, gaze wavering. “my sweet king, so handsome, you promised fruit and now i would like to offer my own,” a hand finds itself wrapped around the king’s wrist, guiding, to the mid-front of clive’s gown. they attempt to meet his eyes then, “..have you dreamt of touching me, your highness?  — or perhaps, in your dreams, i am touching you,”

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northernsfury‌:

            NOT  ONE  TO  FREQUENT  INNS  ,  he  is  rather  impressed  by  the  volume  of  the  room  and  the  lengths  to  which  it  has  been  decorated  .  nicholas  had  expected  something  much  tinier  and  unfamiliar  ,  while  the  current  room  does  remind  himself  a  bit  of  home  .  while  there  is  so  much  to  explore  ,  his  gaze  locks  onto  clive  in  fascination  about  their  wonder  .  there  is  only  one  thing  in  the  room  that  has  him  in  awe  and  it  doesn’t  include  decor  !  oh  ,  he  suddenly  finds  himself  eager  to  take  the  other  back  to  aura  for  a  tour  of  the  castle  .  there  is  worry  to  show  clive  his  own  bedchambers  ,  as  it  is  a  room  shared  with  his  wife  ,  but  it’s  so  grand  he  hopes  the  musician  wouldn’t  mind  .  he  beams  with  their  curiosity  ,  happy  to  be  able  to  bestow  such  a  sense  of  amazement  to  them  .  it  must  be  so  much  more  inspiring  to  be  capsuled  in  a  room  like  their  own  when  nothing  of  familiarity  looked  anything  similar  .  in  the  moment  ,  nick  wishes  for  clive’s  status  ,  to  be  a  normal  citizen  with  dreams  of  a  bigger  world  .  what  would  they  think  to  know  nick  has  just  that  ,  but  still  finds  himself  unhappy  ?

            ❝    out  of  place  ?    ❞    the  king  echos  ,  puzzled  by  their  words  .  he’s  not  sure  why  such  a  thing  would  matter  in  the  first  place  ,  as  neither  of  them  live  within  the  inn  .  they  appear  as  they  do  ,  two  people  who  will  enjoy  a  quiet  night  in  each  other’s  company  .  the  more  they  speak  ,  the  more  nicholas’  heart  begins  to  ache  .  a  cheeky  grin  is  replaced  by  pouted  lips  and  furrowed  brows  .  the  second  they  speak  harshly  of  their  appearance  is  when  the  king  extends  a  finger  below  their  chin  and  lifts  their  gaze  to  mirror  nick’s.    ❝    who  has  bedded  here  before  us  matters  not  .  we  belong  here  ,  right  now  ,  and  i’ll  have  no  word  of  you  thinking  otherwise  .  and  i  …  i  never  want  to  hear  you  call  yourself  that  again  ,  you  hear  me  ?  such  lies  …    ❞    he  inches  closer  ,  placing  a  peck  to  their  cherried  lips  .  his  lips  linger  on  their’s  ,  hand  moving  to  caress  their  cheek  .

            a  dropped  hand  ,  met  by  more  kisses  registers  a  softened  look  from  the  king  .  what  was  sadness  moments  before  shifts  into  something  else  entirely  at  clive’s  words  .  he  takes  a  step  back  ,  allowing  himself  to  watch  the  other  from  a  distance  .  there’s  something  about  their  words  that  makes  him  feel  …  small  ,  as  if  the  fear  that  they  would  think  of  him  as  nothing  more  than  a  king  is  true  .  as  if  clive  is  saying  nick  would  only  use  them  and  want  nothing  more  ,  that  he’s  a  shallow  man  who  could  never  desire  another  below  his  status  .    ❝    i’m  not  .    ❞    his  words  are  quiet  and  his  chest  aches  for  another  reason  entirely  now  .    ❝    do  you  think  i’m  using  you  ?  to  discard  you  when  the  moment  is  best  for  me  ?  is  that  …  is  that  all  you  think  of  me  ?  that  i  …    ❞    could  never  be  more  than  a  useless  king  ?  did  they  think  that  lowly  of  him  ?  nicholas  knows  ,  realistically  ,  after  everything  that  clive  is  projecting  their  own  concerns  but  the  pain  still  stings  the  same  .  if  not  frozen  in  time  ,  he  would  have  fled  out  of  the  room  ,  but  instead  tears  burn  in  his  eyes  .

DETERIORATED BLISS falls away fast like wilting petals. it’s the cruel demise of an often fragile sense of one’s self, thin like tea china, like a breeze cut clean through by the wings of a hawk. they had chased their own tail in dizzying reluctance, and now they have stained bliss itself. foolish! foolish, foolish! horror unfolds and cracks like a powdered shell on clive’s face, splitting them, tearing them in two before the king. clive had ripped their own seams when they were not prompted to, and such a mess ensued. nicholas had turned their brooding diffidence into an arrow through the thick of his own chest, oh dear, “oh no, no  — that is, oh dear, nicholas. you are FAR from cruel, i .. i felt i was doing you a kindness. you must forgive my mind. this is just what i have known, you see, and i  — “ a high breath hiccuped inwards, clive is growing overwhelmed now. head is shaking, oh disbelief! in themselves, in the room, in their dwindling audacity. 

clive cups the soft of nick’s neck, their voice is broken and bordering on hysterics. the shine in nick’s eyes feels like a twisting knife, and clive finds themselves mirroring him. “please hear me, my heart,” they begin. “please, i regret to ask you for sympathy; my, i feel like a beggar  — we were not all bred with such plump fruit and reassurance. this has been hard for me, you see, and i feel conflicted. but you have been most kind and gentle with me, your highness,” a chaste peck to his jaw, “and i want to accept your affections, no interruptions! i will work hard at it and i will be better.” clive’s hands drop as arms wrap around his majesty’s waist, pulling him in and gazing upward at beauty itself, hurt. “i think of you as the universe, my nicholas,” they say, assure, dreamy. “would you look at that? i am holding the universe!” gleeful eyes squint as a toothy grin blossoms, and clive feels something worrisome subside. it would be their priority to live presently, and abandon such thoughts of grief and disbelief. “my universe, will you forgive me? and will i be beautiful for you once more? and could you stand to look at me now?”

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northernsfury‌:

            IT’S  SUDDENLY  AS  IF  HE  wants  nothing  more  to  be  their’s  indefinitely  .  the  affectionate  nicknames  have  his  heart  pounding  in  his  chest  and  the  wind  nearly  knocking  the  breath  out  of  nick  .  why  have  a  god  given  name  when  an  angel  has  declared  him  something  so  much  better  ?  he  feels  content  ,  no  …  happy  in  clive’s  touch  and  would  fight  off  armies  to  stay  in  their  grasp  for  eternity  .  bright  blue  eyes  stare  back  into  the  other’s  ,  a  ghost  of  a  smile  on  his  lips  .  the  king  is  fearful  to  mention  such  a  marvelous  claim  ,  afraid  clive  would  admit  their  mistake  .    ❝    i  did  not  know  that  ,  but  i’m  glad  i  do  now  .  i  have  never  known  another  clive  ,  but  i  can’t  imagine  they  would  be  anything  near  as  talented  and  beautiful  as  you  .    ❞    no  bard  has  ever  been  as  kind  or  as  sweet  as  clive  –  or  anyone  at  all  ,  truly  ,  when  it  comes  to  nicholas  .  roisin  is  charming  and  pleasant  ,  as  a  wife  should  be  ,  but  neither  of  their  hearts  have  ever  belonged  to  the  other  .  he  is  clive’s  heart  ,  just  as  the  other  is  his  .

             ❝    i  am  honored  to  have  been  so  lucky  ,  to  be  here  with  my  clive  .    ❞    it  feels  odd  ,  such  a  sentiment  rolling  from  his  tongue  but  the  king  cannot  stop  smiling  .  he  has  never  felt  this  way  before  ,  to  be  enamored  of  them  .  instead  of  holding  back  and  distancing  himself  in  fear  of  what  could  come  of  their  situation  ,  nicholas  has  decided  to  jump  head  first  .  perhaps  clive  would  catch  him  .    ❝    yes  ,  yes  of  course  !    ❞    enthusiasm  matched  with  their  own  as  nicholas  nearly  skips  in  time  with  his  bard  .    ❝    to  show  me  ?  what  could  you  have  to  show  me  ?    ❞    yet  ,  his  question  is  left  unanswered  as  they  rush  off  to  the  inn  around  the  corner  ,  the  both  of  them  completely  oblivious  to  others  around  them  .  nicholas  knows  he  should  be  careful  and  discreet  ,  distancing  himself  enough  to  not  appear  as  if  he  had  been  kissing  the  other  beside  him  moments  ago  .  with  an  idle  thought  ,  the  king  reaches  a  thumb  to  his  lips  to  void  himself  of  any  stained  lipstick  .

             once  they  reach  the  inside  of  the  inn  ,  nicholas  smacks  his  hands  onto  the  wood  of  the  counter  and  grins  .  thankfully  enough  ,  the  patrons  inside  are  too  drunk  or  exhausted  to  pay  the  scene  any  attention  .    ❝    your  finest  room  ,  my  good  sir  !  oh  ,  here  ,  enough  coin  to  keep  me  and  my  guest  undisturbed  but  with  ale  and  fruit  aplenty  .    ❞    the  entire  pouch  from  his  pocket  is  set  atop  the  bar  .  the  innkeeper  simply  nods  ,  letting  the  coin  sack  disappear  and  motioning  for  them  to  follow  .  they  ascend  up  a  lengthy  stairwell  ,  led  to  a  larger  room  in  the  back  of  the  hall  .  food  and  wine  are  stocked  in  the  chambers  with  a  tasteful  decor  for  an  inn  .  a  big  bed  remains  in  the  center  of  the  back  wall  and  plants  that  appear  as  if  they  haven’t  been  watered  in  days  sit  on  the  nightstands  .  nicholas  nods  at  the  innkeeper  who  shuts  the  door  behind  them  .  he’s  unsure  if  they  know  who  he  is  ,  but  he  doesn’t  have  the  effort  to  care  .    ❝    is  this  what  you  had  imagined  ?    ❞

NICK TAKES WHAT IS HIS, what should be his, everything the universe has to offer if you only asked clive, with grace and a sprinkle of his own theatrics. it’s the clink of his coin and the sharp charm in his step, so alluring, and the grand nature of the room only serves as suitable for a man of nick’s stature. the room is vast in its wooden detailing, so big, so big! clive’s eyes can hardly take it all in. perhaps to his highness, it was just meeting a standard, but clive’s world beyond the square of a stage was four crumbling walls of once white, now eggshell, tainted by life and its careless patrons, torn cloth and antique oddities. this, however, is structured and clean and a reflection of nick’s larger than life existence. nick was all over these walls, clive thinks and thinks and thinks! they’re roaming around with electrified awe and curiousness, daring to sprawl fingers against the sturdy velvet of the curtains and anything shiny and wooden, all caught up. and for a moment, clive feels out of place and slows their movements, tries not to be obvious. 

this doesn’t stop them from turning to nick with a sweet smile, “to be truthful, i had only imagined you and anything else would be a delicious addition. the room.. oh, nicholas,” they begin, something slightly somber and dreamy about it as they’re picking up a pearlescent plate, maybe for delicate jewelry or perhaps fruit, and setting it back down gently. “.. it is most beautiful.” where had this melancholy come from? “delightful, really.” they’ve turned around fully now, padding towards his highness. hands find themselves flat, yearning, against his chest. close now. “i must ask for your honesty; do you find i look out of place here, my nicholas?” clive finds it hard to look directly at him now. oh heavens, he’s a statue of marble in a place quite built for someone closer to his greatness. clive feels much like a soiled painting, that color is far too rich or far too dull. impossible to tell which. “i cannot help this feeling of guilt, my king. i cannot imagine the kind of folk who have bedded here, oh, i’m quite embarrassed, you see. i’m flushing bright under all of this makeup. soon i’ll be damp and ugly.” very unlike the queen and anyone else who might’ve found themselves under nicholas. 

clive takes nick’s hand, then, and presses a kiss to the skin of it. it’s a derail into the familiarity of self-doubt and compensation that felt like a sickly, warm bath. “i will not be upset with you if you choose to stop seeing me after that point, wonderful nicholas. aura has instilled me with an acceptance that will act as my safety net in these trying times  —  i have you to thank! but please, i beg, don’t humor me. i have always figured there’s no space for the likes of me in your life, or in this room. say  —  we can live out the fantasy until you grow tired of it!”

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

             WITH  THEIR  WORDS  ,  it  is  quite  impossible  for  the  king  to  be  any  color  other  than  a  deepened  pink  .  even  with  his  efforts  to  appear  detached  and  unaffected  by  such  compliments  ,  it  would  be  cruel  to  pretend  otherwise  for  them  .  besides  ,  if  he  remained  cold  ,  how  was  he  to  hear  clive  sing  praises  for  him  ?  an  angelic  voice  ,  nicholas  is  positive  .    ❝    most  favorite  ?  oh  ,  i’m  sure  you  have  others  !  i  have  not  …  but  i  know  of  a  painter  .  perhaps  i’ll  tell  them  your  feedback  and  have  one  composed  .    ❞    his  wife  .  the  painter  is  roisin  ,  frequently  sat  in  front  of  an  easel  with  brushes  by  her  side  .  how  would  that  go  ,  asking  her  to  paint  his  portrait  and  gifting  it  to  another  ?  the  thought  has  his  stomach  in  a  twist  .  he  thinks  ,  quite  possibly  ,  he’ll  let  the  queen  take  his  head  if  she  desires  .

                 the  assumption  of  forgetting  clive  stings  deeper  than  nicholas  could  have  known  ,  even  with  no  intention  of  doing  so  .  how  could  anyone  forget  clive  ,  let  alone  a  man  who  they  had  shared  a  kiss  with  ?  there’s  the  twisting  in  his  stomach  again  at  the  thought  someone  could  be  so  tangled  with  the  bard  and  disappear  with  no  warning  ,  with  no  hesitation  .  if  not  already  so  deep  within  his  bones  ,  nicholas  might  consider  such  a  thing  .  to  cut  ties  and  run  ,  afraid  of  what  he  feels  and  what  chaos  it  could  bring  .  for  a  king  to  desire  a  bard  ,  body  and  soul  .  he  has  never  been  allowed  to  desire  anything  ,  let  alone  another  ,  but  now  the  thought  of  pulling  himself  away  is  unendurable  .  nicholas  will  suffer  the  chaos  and  turmoil  for  whatever  possibility  his  affections  for  clive  could  bring  them  .  he  has  never  known  fondness  ,  to  be  given  or  received  ,  like  he  does  with  clive  .  the  king  figures  that’s  why  he’s  so  offended  ,  though  the  thought  clive  has  faced  this  before  has  him  placing  a  gentle  touch  to  their  powdered  cheek  .    ❝    clive  ,  you  must  know  i  could  never  forget  you  .    ❞    his  words  are   earnest  ,  eyes  locking  onto  the  musician  .  if  they  hear  one  thing  ,  remember  one  thing  from  their  time  together  ,  let   it  be  this  .  please  ,  let  them  believe  him  .

                   their  kisses  ,  as  always  ,  are  welcomed  with  reddened  cheeks  and  quiet  murmurs  replicating  sounds  of  giggles  .  to  be  called  a  king  by  them  ,  their  king  ,  makes  the  title  worth  having  .  anyone  from  aura  could  call  him  such  but  the  meaning  would  not  be  the  same  .  clive’s  request  has  him  beaming  and  the  aching  of  privacy  is  a  mutual  feeling  .  almost  as  an  answer  ,  nicholas  hops  forward  to  plant  a  fond  kiss  to  their  brightened  cherry  lips  .    ❝    anywhere  !  i  will  take  you  anywhere  .    ❞    a  promise  met  with  action  as  nick  nods  in  an  opposite  direction  .    ❝    i  believe  there  is  an  inn  that  way  ,  if  you  would  …    ❞    like  to  spend  the  night  ?  it  seems  too  terrifying  to  ask  ,  even  if  he’s  already  sure  of  the  positive  answer  .  there  is  always  a  vacant  room  for  a  king  …  and  a  discretion  fee  he  is  more  than  willing  to  pay  .    ❝    want  to  …    ❞    join  me  ?  a  pale  face  darkens  a  crimson  shade  once  more  and  he  can’t  manage  the  words  .  hopefully  ,  clive  can  decipher  from  his  broken  babbling  .

HIS HIGHNESS is ripe with a bashful kindness, and pink like a peach. he speaks of clive as if they are priceless, only right for the change which life grants you gradually and unfit for the kind folks bestow upon those they don’t find personally suitable. clive had always been subject to wishes of change; less makeup, more scruff! less scruff, more lipstick! sing higher! play quieter! with nicholas, there’s a swelling of warmth in clive’s stomach, not nerves, but a comfort once found in the solace of a familiar duvet and under the gaze of a trusted friend. he is kind and forgiving as a king should be in storybooks and naive imaginations. clive does truly believe his highness hangs the sun, moon and stars. tonight they are hung just for them! “i’d come and find you again and again if you ever did,” they say, wistful. but, please, continue to remember me. i fear i shall die if you didn’t bother to try.

for each sweet sound scooped sugary from the king’s throat, clive’s smile grows an inch wider. his kiss is as bold as his status, and clive’s eyes are electrified with excitement. not without bouncing up and down a few times, and cupping his warm cheeks in return, reassuring. “your highness! my nicholas, my heart. anywhere you go, i will follow! did you know i have never known another nicholas with such intimacy? you’re the first and i’ll be certain that you are the last with such fervor!” a smile sent his way, sincere and painted a deep, fleshy, feathery pink. “i know just the inn you speak of. i believe i stopped there once in seek of work..” fingers point and move animatedly with their words. “..you could perhaps guess how that turned out! oh, the luck of me, but it led me here, i suppose. you are much better than scrubbing wooden floors, my nicholas.” said matter of factly, a hand coils around his wrist now. “will you take me there at once?” they ask. “i’m very grateful to and for you, did you know? and i’ve so much to show you  —  quickly! we must go!”

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

          IF  NICHOLAS  HIMSELF  WAS  NOT  ALREADY  numerous  shades  of  pink  ,  he  would  surely  be  turning  so  !  the  other’s  words  have  him  blushing  and  caught  off  guard  .  it’s  not  something  he  had  merely  thought  about  ,  less  than  imagined  …  and  now  that  he  is  ,  the  spark  of  insecurity  flares  once  more  .  his  face  falls  without  confirmation  of  teasing  ,  but  nicholas  shrugs  it  off  .    ❝    do  you  ?    ❞    compliment  ignored  entirely  as  he  focuses  on  clear  jest  .    ❝    not  that  i  …  it’s  not  any  of  my  business  …  just  curiosity  .    ❞    the  king  bites  his  tongue  before  he  chews  further  on  his  own  foot  .  the  unknowing  with  clive  is  what  shakes  him  from  a  fantasy  ,  yet  he  clings  onto  paradise  as  tightly  as  one  can  with  such  a  dream  in  his  company  .

            as  previously  suspected  ,  his  own  name  gliding  off  the  other’s  tongue  is  even  better  than  a  charming  melody  .  better  than  he  imagined  !  nicholas’  eyes  reflect  the  night  sky  ,  twinkling  as  the  fireflies  do  among  the  stars  .    ❝    that’s  …  how  you  think  of  me  ?  is  that  good  ?    ❞    if  he  could  become  anymore  pink  ,  he  does  !  they  think  of  him  is  all  nicholas  takes  away  and  he  can’t  help  but  grin  .  their  previous  affair  had  ended  so  quickly  with  no  answers  to  extinguish  the  fires  of  curiosity  in  his  mind  ,  in  his  chest  !  how  was  he  to  know  anything  and  where  would  he  even  had  began  to  guess  ?  it  gave  him  motivation  to  see  them  again  ,  among  numerous  reasons  .

             his  lips  part  ever  so  slightly  with  a  quiet  gasp  and  his  mind  is  already  working  wonders  to  deflect  .  there’s  a  beginning  of  an  idea  forming  ,  slipping  away  as  clive  speaks  and  nicholas  wants  nothing  more  than  to  focus  on  them  .  performing  ,  only  for  him  ,  why  couldn’t  they  ?  if  a  king  demands  ,  it  shall  be  done  .  before  he  finds  words  ,  even  a  gesture  ,  nick  is  following  them  somewhere  else  .  a  place  for  them  only  ,  a  solitude  of  peace  to  speak  their  minds  and  if  clive  has  already  spoken  their’s  ,  the  king  is  unsure  how  much  more  he  can  blush  .    ❝    i  have  felt  much  ,  i  can  promise  …  and  i  have  not  stopped  thinking  of  you  in  these  weeks  .  it’s  difficult  to  put  words  to  what  exactly  i  felt  ,  but  who  is  to  say  it  wasn’t  of  your  own  thoughts  ?    ❞    eager  to  speak  now  ,  nodding  along  to  their  words  .  he  wishes  ,  so  desperately  in  that  moment  ,  to  be  a  poet  with  elegantly  crafted  thoughts  said  aloud  .  a  king  ,  so  plain  and  simple  ,  in  the  presence  of  such  a  magnificently  talented  bard  .    ❝    if  you  dream  so  ,  it  shall  be  .  to  be  in  your  company  must  be  magic  .    ❞    where  they  are  strong  with  speech  ,  nicholas  will  find  a  strong  suit  in  touch  ,  in  action  .  hands  encompass  clive  ,  tugging  them  forward  and  resting  at  their  hips  .  no  make  up  will  ruined  by  him  today  !    ❝    you  have  my  full  attention  ,  and  with  that  i  would  like  to  hear  about  you  …  that  imagination  you  spoke  of  and  how  you  occupied  yourself  in  your  time  away  from  me  …  any  ,  all  ,  everything  !  i  wish  to  know  you  as  much  as  i  know  your  lips  ,    ❞    and  suddenly  ,  that’s  where  his  gaze  goes  .

CHARMED BY HIS curiosity, clive moves swiftly on, no answers given. though, the whimsy and adoration in the way they sway and jitter might be an answer in itself, in a way  —  clive had always been something of a terrible liar in conversation, despite their knack for theatre. much better to polish and decorate the truth. “it is wonderful, nicholas. your pigment is my most favorite and if i had the skill, i would paint you just so! lovely and red  —  have you ever had your portrait made, nicholas? or has no one dared to slick their brushes with the challenge of capturing such allure? i do wonder, could even the most esteemed painter capture your unforeseen bashfulness?”

clive had never known love the way it curled, inky on a page or played out drastically on a stage. even in their own work, the concept bloated and swollen with theatrics and illusion. a thought had strolled in a week or so back, were there types of love? if so, clive feels a love for the curl in nick’s lip, and the flushed way he existed in the warmth of a compliment, victim to his own blood and heat. a love for the way he dips in and out of the profound, almost testing, a sincerity that felt as rare as it sounded from his highness. for those strings of words, clive allows themself to feel special. a small jolt of joy, wide-eyed for a moment, a step forward; clive is contained but overjoyed somehow. “OH! and to think i assumed you had forgotten me some time ago. i live in your head just as you live in mine!” a sudden, pleased hum sounds from clive in suit of the king’s touch, pulled forward, allowing, sweet. the flesh of their bottom lip is caught between teeth, so smitten, gazing up as if gaping at a god or a forgiving sun that refuses to blind its admirers. clive’s hands find someplace on nick’s chest, flat with ring-clad fingers sprawled. “i am in such awe of you, your majesty. nicholas, nick, my king,” leaps forward, up and to press a honeyed kiss to his cheek, “  —  will you take me somewhere?” his jaw, “away from here?” his lips. “oh i know the festival is so lovely, it is  —  the flickering lights compliment you! however i ache to have you someplace with more privacy,” the words are frantic with some worry much like their kiss, worry about ruining everything, worry about speaking too low or too loud, worry about makeup smudging at its creases and worried about nick disappearing where he stood.

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

            THE  HINT  OF  A  SMILE  IS  HIDDEN  and  overshadowed  by  a  quick  glance  in  another  direction  .  nicholas  rolls  his  eyes  ,  playfully  ,  arms  folding  gently  across  his  chest  .  even  on  a  night  where  he  is  fitted  as  a  commoner  ,  blending  into  the  crowds  of  people  ,  clive  treats  him  as  a  king  .  it’s  conflicting  ,  whether  he  should  correct  them  or  not  .  the  way  they  address  him  as  his  highness  ,  his  majesty  ,  it’s  a  phrase  anyone  would  use  but  from  them  it’s  as  if  it  comes  from  fondness  and  admiration  .  as  if  those  monikers  are  reserved  only  for  them  .  on  another  note  ,  the  both  of  them  are  on  a  first  name  basis  –  or  ,  they  certainly  should  be  after  what  occurred  weeks  ago  .    ❝    as  goes  with  tradition  ,  tonight  i  am  a  commoner  .    ❞    even  saying  so  has  his  words  soured  .  the  poking  has  him  finally  grinning  outright  ,  tempted  to  pull  the  other  close  .  if  tonight  he  is  not  a  king  ,  why  act  like  one  ?  because  he  is  a  married  man  ,  regardless  of  status  ,  that’s  why  .  the  curtsy  has  nick  shaking  his  head  quickly  ,  jumping  forward  to  assist  them  back  upright  .    ❝    i  am  your  equal  this  evening  ,  clive  !  there’s  no  need  for  curtsies  .    ❞    the  void  of  such  actions  has  him  cringing  with  strangers  ,  but  with  his  bard  ?  he  will  allow  it  .  encourage  such  a  thing  ,  even  .

             their  appearance  ,  as  always  ,  is  exquisite  .  for  once  ,  nicholas  feels  underdressed  .  a  beautiful  gown  and  the  mask  ,  oh  how  fun  !  if  only  he’d  thought  of  such  a  thing  .    ❝    it’s  a  spectacle  ,  to  be  sure  .    ❞    he’s  not  sure  how  to  answer  .  there  are  beautiful  ,  splendid  details  of  the  festival  and  melancholy  feelings  for  what  such  a  thing  could  dare  to  represent  .    ❝    i  am  glad  you  are  enjoying  yourself  .  and  please  ,  you  may  call  me  nicholas  .  or  nick  …  either  will  sound  wonderful  from  your  voice  .    ❞    a  quick  compliment  as  if  his  heart  isn’t  pounding  in  his  chest  ,  threatening  to  pop  out  at  a  moment’s  notice  .  it’s  their  question  that  catches  him  off  guard  ,  yet  he  bashfully  grins  and  folds  his  hands  together  .    ❝    i  have  ,  yes  .  in  truth  ,  i  meant  to  send  you  a  letter  about  my  absence  but  …  then  i  realized  i  had  no  where  to  send  it  .    ❞    a  nervous  fit  of  laughter  overcomes  him  ,  expression  turning  a  cherry  red  .  his  own  curiosity  knocks  back  ,  bubbling  to  the  surface  .    ❝    have  you  thought  of  me  ?  quite  clear  like  now  ,  while  far  away  and  on  a  stage  for  others  ?    ❞    as  a  king  ,  as  someone  with  a  comforted  ego  ,  it  is  rare  for  nicholas  to  spark  a  moment  of  insecurity  .  he  feels  it  now  ,  though  ,  more  than  ever  as  he  imagines  clive  with  another  .

UNDER HIS PRESENCE things are warm and glistening much like the night lights, and much like the feeling in clive’s belly, full and bubbling with cider and regard. clive finds themselves feeling lucky, even, like a big bright star caught in the eyes of someone, a small speck in the universe, yearning for a wish. “how do you know i do not curtesy for every charming man i find in the aisle?” it’s not true! though they do wish it were so; what better way to show off a gown than to curtsey?

clive’s only wish now, starless, is to say his highnesses name forevermore, nicholas nicholas nicholas! a hand coils around their forearm, carefully searching for a wrist. “oh, curse me for being partial to such vacancy. nicholas, you’ve found me!” how wonderful! “you flush more often than anyone i’ve ever known. even under these lights, nicholas, you are stunningly pink! that is how i think of you, did you know? of course not  —  i had no chance to tell you.” oh, how swiftly they had left things! high and dry like sunday’s laundry! 

clive is so content to live, even in small part, inside the king’s brain. nick’s brain; would it be as pink as his ears? shiny as his cheeks were? “oh, nicholas,” tone deepens, sincere but with a glaze of certain charm. “i am only ever performing for you.” off the high of their bold remark, that’s when clive tugs nick to that same corner of solace where they had begun, searching for that damned square of cream cloth. no idea where it is now, must’ve dropped it  —  but onto better things! once they stop, in a dim crevice of the festival, some noises drowned out and muffled as if under a fortress of leaves and vines, clive breathes out a huff. eyes sparkling still somehow, “i must be frank,” they say then, bravery. “i am simply intoxicated by your affections and quite deliriously eager to have your attention. i have thought of you each day, had you realized or had you felt that? i used to think, as a child, oh dear, so hopeless, if i had thought really vigorously of another, then perhaps they could sense my thoughtfulness. had you felt anything in those few weeks, nicholas?” it’s frenzied in its seriousness, and clive’s up and down on tippy-toes, eager in emphasis and fondness. “in my dreams you’re grand but not as grand   —  i cannot for the life of me build your greatness from the scraps in my imagination. i thought to myself, oh dear, i must see his highness once more. and here you are! like magic, don’t you agree?”

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

L O C A T I O N  :  center  aisle  ,  fireflight  festival  . S T A T U S  :  closed  ,  made  for  clive  eros  .

             THE  NIGHT  SKY  SHINES  BRIGHT  with  fireflies  ,  dancing  around  and  giving  light  to  the  festival  .  it’s  as  if  they  know  exactly  what  to  do  and  how  ,  something  nicholas  wishes  he  knew  too  .  his  attire  is  dark  ,  hiding  himself  while  also  looking  the  part  .  it’s  a  ridiculous  affair  ,  a  ridiculous  idea  –  and  yet  ,  there  is  a  part  of  himself  having  fun  .  the  music  ,  the  laughter  ,  it’s  a  better  upbeat  than  when  smallpox  had  traveled  through  the  kingdoms  .  a  bit  of  ale  in  his  belly  has  calmed  his  nerves  and  eased  a  burdened  mind  ,  letting  him  enjoy  what  small  attributes  he  can  .  the  king  will  make  idle  small  talk  and  smile  as  if  he  is  a  common  man  .  yet  ,  he  is  not  and  no  festival  will  change  that  .  all  the  fireflight  festival  has  brought  him  are  empty  opportunities  and  the  dangling  of  a  forbidden  future  in  his  grasp  .  he  will  bask  in  such  a  thought  for  the  night  ,  but  nicholas  finds  it  cruel  .

             he  whisks  his  way  throughout  the  crowd  ,  eyes  set  on  a  darkened  part  of  the  marketplace  void  of  others  .  no  one  will  bother  him  and  if  they  do  ,  can  he  shake  them  off  as  a  commoner  would  ?  as  much  as  he  would  prefer  ,  nick  decides  it  best  to  stay  quiet  .  the  sound  of  flutes  has  him  gazing  around  ,  interested  to  watch  .  it’s  then  he  spots  a  few  people  wearing  masks  ,  dancing  around  in  a  circle  .  a  joyful  action  ,  he’s  sure  ,  but  then  another  in  a  mask  catches  his  gaze  .  off  to  the  side  ,  not  where  he  was  originally  looking  –  but  nicholas  can  spot  powdered  skin  and  a  familiar  silhouette  .  not  skipping  ,  no  ,  though  he  hurries  in  pace  to  investigate  .    ❝    no  mask  can  hide  your  beauty  ,    ❞    he  speaks  in  hushed  tones  ,  smile  bright  as  he  finally  faces  them  .    ❝    hello  ,  clive  .    ❞

ODDITIES DROWNED OUT or disregarded for a night, a wonderful night, of mutual frolicking and reach for a splendid evening. just off the sharp, sickly edge of smallpox, folks from all around dance eagerly and drink as if they were kings and queens, with only the stars and fireflies watching over them to supervise. clive thrives in the motion blur of anonymity and joy, dancing in circles under the soles of their feet were screaming for mercy. even then, red-heeled and damp, clive smiles toothy and wide, a mask held with some inkling of class and delicacy, dancing around and swigging whatever came their way like a toddler. naturally, solace calls, and clive finds themselves digging through their tote for a handkerchief in the surprising quiet of a darkened corner. sounds of instruments curling like smoke in the air, shining lights, the sound of shoes meeting the ground, vague chatter.. where is that handkerchief? 

got you! said amongst themselves, and thus begins the steps back into the meat and potatoes of the festival. that is, until, they’re met with another. beauty! clive is quick to remember, and a grin blooms, all sweetness, like his highness. “my oh my, could it be? among us commoners?” teasing; that’s the whole point, wasn’t it? clive pokes lightly, playfully at his chest, but truly wants to grab at the thick of his chin and tug. ridiculously beautiful, he is. clive’s chest is aflutter, overjoyed with this reunion! “your majesty,” a small curtsy, clutching a chunk of fabric attached to their mismatched gown ( homemade, they might add! the same colors as the decor for the festival! ). standing up straight once more, clive lowers their mask, blinking thrice. when they speak, it’s coy and nearly devoid of the small slice of history they shared. clive tries to picture his highness, cornered and red, kissed, blushing, once more. oh the times they had tried to replicate it in makeup and art and music all those weeks between then and now! “are you finding the occasion suitable for your needs, your highness?” they ask, “i myself find it most wonderful. my belly is full and my eyes are made of stars, you see,” eyes widen then, showing, dilated and reflective, batting. swiftly onward, “have you thought of me? and am i clear in your head, your highness? quite clear like now?”

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

           AND  SUDDENLY  ,  EVERYTHING  IS  SPINNING  .  though  he  feels  as  if  the  lack  of  oxygen  could  knock  him  unconscious  ,  nicholas  doesn’t  dare  to  part  .  their  lips  touch  and  it’s  something  the  king  had  never  known  to  crave  .  there’s  a  hint  of  intensity  that  causes  him  to  cling  to  the  other  as  the  only  solid  thing  in  a  dizzy  swaying  world  .  and  with  the  hunger  ,  which  he  subsides  ,  there’s  the  desperation  of  more  .  the  desperation  that  this  moment  ,  this  very  sweet  moment  will  be  whisked  away  and  nothing  will  ever  ring  close  .  it’s  only  a  kiss  ,  he  thinks  ,  but  he  would  live  in  this  scene  for  the  rest  of  his  days  if  possible  .  the  seconds  linger  and  before  they’re  gone  ,  nick  thanks  his  lucky  stars  .

            he’s  grinning  ,  eyes  beaming  as  his  tongue  darts  across  his  lips  to  reminisce  of  their  lip  stained  taste  .  in  wonder  ,  nick  watches  clive  reveal  the  mess  he’s  made  in  his  haste  .  to  think  he  had  been  more  careful  mere  moments  ago  !    ❝    your  beauty  has  rubbed  off  on  me  !    ❞    in  joyous  exclamation  he  begins  to  giggle  ,  fits  of  laughter  only  loudening  at  the  sight  of  clive’s  smudged  appearance  .  not  at  how  he  looks  ,  of  course  ,  but  at  what  nick  has  ultimately  done  in  his  efforts  to  have  the  bard  in  his  grasp  .    ❝    my  ,  it  is  good  you  have  plenty  left  .    ❞    the  tiny  pecks  ,  given  with  care  ,  only  encourage  his  happy  state  and  how  the  situation  feels  impossible  .  with  compliments  and  kisses  ,  the  king  quiets  down  ,  though  audibly  whining  at  the  new  space  between  them  .  clive’s  final  words  have  him  nearly  in  tears  ,  so  touched  and  thankful  .    ❝    it  was  no  gift  i  did  not  want  myself  ,    ❞    said  as  he  blinks  repeatedly  .  with  the  kiss  ,  with  the  kind  words  ,  there  is  an  impulsiveness  to  his  present  actions  and  while  void  of  thought  ,  nicholas  jumps  forward  .  his  hands  ,  stained  with  pale  colors  ,  grasp  for  clive’s  .  it  is  his  own  turn  to  be  bold  and  take  what  he  wants  which  is  precisely  in  front  of  him  .    ❝    the  castle  ,  you  mentioned  its  size  …  why  not  see  it  in  person  ?  or  even  travel  inside  ?  i  would  very  much  like  to  show  you  around  ,  if  that  …  if  that’s  something  you  would  want  …    ❞    and  with  anything  clive  would  want  ,  nicholas  would  be  happy  to  give  it  to  them  .

GLEEFUL LAUGHTER rings bright from the throat of a silly, done up bard who had been kissed by an angel, a king, king of angels! and so clive doesn’t dare take any moment for granted now, any tiny moment; like how they still and quiet for a moment after falling into each other, so unexpected and primal but sweet like may flowers being worshipped by bees. together, they might be springtime! “any more beauty on you and you’ll die of it!” beautiful even in death, the king, clive is sure. but they are very much glad he’s alive and joyous before them. no time for such dreary thoughts! 

held and smiling, clive listens. and his words are music, wonderful music! clive is watered down and kissed to speechlessness. such an honor might sweep them off their feet then and there, and so their grip inside the king’s hands tightens, if possible. it’d be terrible to float away now, “your.. your highness! you are the KINDEST man who has ever spoken a word to me; oh, i must look silly  —  what would i wear? my fashions, they must be grand, as grand as you  —  oh! will you show me your quarters? the gardens? i’ve heard amazing things, i  —  “ a breath in, out, fizzling into the air with excitement hardly contained. releasing from kind grip, clive places two flat palms to the king’s chest, light. the following words hold a theatrical dread, “i must be going, my king; how it aches me to leave you here! by the brick, without me to adore you. what a shame we’ve created already!” hands fall back to their sides, smitten and hurried. clive pulls that weed from behind their ear, finally, stuffing it in a pocket. “will you remember me?” they say, busy. stands up straight, “..even when i’m washed clean off your hands, your majesty?” they don’t give much time for answers, as clive picks their tote off the ground, which they hadn’t realized fell amidst, and takes steps back. “au revoir !”

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

             FEAR  BUBBLES  IN  HIS  GUT  as  he  awaits  the  outcome  of  his  compliments  ,  the  affect  his  words  will  have  .  appearance  wise  ,  all  of  his  subjects  are  to  take  his  remarks  as  law  and  yet  ,  there  is  genuine  care  from  the  other  that  nicholas  has  yet  to  see  in  years  .  while  there  is  part  of  him  that  wonders  ,  wonders  if  clive  truly  cares  for  him  or  only  of  their  adoration  for  authority  ,  the  other  part  of  the  king  does  not  care  .  he  is  being  shown  compassion  and  kindness  ,  a  focus  to  their  own  attention  he  craves  more  than  nicholas  would  care  to  admit  .  he  likes  the  spotlight  ,  has  grown  comfortable  in  it  .  there  are  days  where  he  wishes  he  could  vanish  into  the  woods  and  be  back  the  next  day  without  anyone  to  fret  ,  but  he  knows  his  place  and  has  grown  into  what  is  expected  of  him  .  a  sliver  of  basking  in  said  spotlight  has  become  a  liking  of  his  .  he  would  be  a  liar  to  say  he  didn’t  enjoy  clive’s  infatuation  .  is  he  a  fool  ?  quite  possibly  .

             in  and  out  ,  his  chest  huffs  ,  as  if  he’s  sprinted  down  a  narrow  path  with  no  end  in  sight  .  has  he  given  the  other  what  they’ve  wanted  to  watch  them  turn  the  other  way  ?  forever  ,  they  had  said  ,  and  though  it’s  fruitless  for  nick  to  hold  onto  such  a  silly  sentiment  …  it’s  what  he’s  put  his  faith  in  .  that  regardless  of  the  capacity  that  they  want  him  ,  they  will  not  leave  .  everyone  leaves  .  nick  hopes  clive  is  not  everyone  .    ❝    i  understand  if  …  if  you’ve  gotten  all  you  want  from  me  .  niceties  ,  an  afternoon  with  a  king  …  many  have  similar  desires  .  that’s  all  i  am  to  some  ,  i  suppose  .  it’s  fine  ,  truly  .    ❞    there’s  a  sadness  in  his  voice  .  it’s  times  like  these  he  wish  he  could  remain  anonymous  and  earn  friends  as  a  common  man  .  a  fluffed  ego  of  another  ,  he  feels  somewhat  used  .  will  no  one  ever  like  him  for  him  ?  such  a  thought  nearly  has  him  in  a  fit  of  laughter  .

             unlike  himself  ,  he  lets  out  a  squeak  at  the  kiss  .  it’s  welcomed  ,  of  course  it’s  welcomed  ,  despite  being  a  clear  surprise  .  not  his  wife’s  lips  ,  as  they  should  be  ,  but  the  guilt  of  an  affair  takes  backseat  to  his  other  concerns  .  was  this  something  they  felt  owed  to  do  ?  something  with  an  agenda  ?  and  yet  his  heart  is  pounding  ,  pounding  POUNDING  in  his  chest  .  they  don’t  like  him  ,  someone  like  clive  could  never  truly  like  anything  past  the  appearance  of  his  kingliness  .  yet  ,  with  his  own  self  hatred  ,  he  begins  to  giggle  .  his  fingers  press  against  his  own  lips  ,  smile  stretched  from  ear  to  ear  .  damn  it  all  ,  he  thinks  ,  as  nicholas  jumps  forward  –  hands  grasping  at  clive’s  cheeks  and  kissing  them  fiercely  .

IF THEIR HEART COULD split by overdone seams, tear and retreat to a shadow of wholeness over and over, it would be fiercely ripping itself into loose threads at the sound of their king’s sensitivity. no such beautiful heart and soul should have to digest that way of thinking, that awareness; it could kill you! clive thinks about warning him. he’s too kind. yet they’re being kissed by the fleshy glistening form of this kindness and compassion, firm and grounding, affectionate, fond, dare they observe. their gown-clad chest just touches the kings as they touch, kiss, speak silently. in clive’s head, swims a portrait of the king’s smile, wide like horizons and sweet like now, here, brick and weeds and inklings of honesty. 

clive pulls away, breathless and flushed, swelling pink. “your highness,” they breathe out eventually, sugary. their eyes are wild upon the king, drinking him in until imaginary hiccups bloom bubbles of adoration in their throat. clive hooks a hand around the thick of his wrist, pulling it and observing down at it. as it were, it was painted white and rose, creased in his fingertips and the lines of his hands like tiny white rivers. “your hands,” they say, sorrowful. eyes flicker up, meeting. clive cannot imagine how they must look; a right smudged mess. separation now felt cruel and unfair, air meeting the wet of where clive was kissed and adored, and that’s when they decide quickly to push back in, pressing small kisses to the sides of his mouth, his chin, his cheeks; oh, if only they could kiss his eyes. tiny thank yous, press and press and press, mumbled in between the cracks of infatuation, “forgive me, please, you must, i find you most delightful already,” they say, a peck to his jaw now. “..without the castle, oh my stars, i cannot imagine its size in person,” floating off track, clive pulls away, taking some time to even out their breathing. “..there is no crown on you now,” they observe, simple. trying to be helpful, careful. despite all things profound, he was a king. clive speaks honestly, more hushed, smiling lightly. “you are just handsome and kind. and you’ve kissed me back and  — and.. what a wonderful gift you’ve given me.”

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

             THERE  IS  SOMETHING  TO  THE  TONE  of  clive’s  words  that  has  his  eyes  widening  with  bewilderment  and  his  lips  twitching  .  most  do  not  refer  to  him  as  such  ,  though  any  sentiment  of  an  auran  citizen  would  be  true  .  something  stirs  in  him  ,  wonders  if  nicholas  should  delve  further  into  such  words  .  have  him  forever  ?  laughter  almost  erupts  from  his  gut  .  who  would  want  nicholas  for  that  long  ?  it  seems  as  if  the  redness  in  his  cheeks  will  never  fade  .  then  ,  suddenly  ,  the  tugging  throws  his  mind  blank  and  the  king  stumbles  closer  .  there’s  no  point  in  asking  why  ,  or  for  what  reason  ,  for  this  he  knows  .  his  gaze  follows  the  other’s  ,  curiously  watching  their  delicate  movements  with  fascination  .  for  anyone  else  to  touch  him  in  such  a  manner  would  earn  them  a  missing  limb  ,  or  even  a  head  ,  but  nick  wouldn’t  dare  to  scold  them  .

             the  question  has  his  head  lifting  ,  eyes  locking  with  clive’s  as  the  both  of  them  are  fighting  for  an  answer  .  one  with  a  furious  desire  and  the  other  with  a  saddened  realization  .  he  knows  now  ,  more  than  he  had  before  ,  the  caked  on  substance  should  never  have  been  a  topic  of  question  .  was  beauty  all  it  was  to  them  ?  to  earn  that  in  their  talent  ?  it’s  impossible  to  speak  ,  unsure  of  what  to  say  until  the  bard  themselves  admits  what  they  wish  to  hear  .  a  quick  sigh  of  surprise  ,  lips  parted  in  confusion  .    ❝    my  answer  should  not  dictate  the  status  of  your  beauty  ,    ❞    quick  and  bold  ,  no  wavering  on  his  opinion  .  for  ,  in  truth  ,  what  nicholas  thinks  has  never  mattered  and  this  is  no  exception  .  another  sigh  ,  less  in  appearance  this  time  and  more  …  upset  ,  to  be  asked  such  an  inquiry  in  the  first  place  .  do  they  truly  not  know  ?    ❝    i  will  not  to  lie  to  you  ,  clive  ,    ❞    brows  furrowed  as  he  shakes  his  head  ,  a  short  giggle  spilling  from  his  lips  .    ❝    why  would  i  need  to  lie  ?    ❞    it’s  as  if  one  is  pulling  teeth  ,  to  have  nicholas  answer  such  a  simple  question  in  a  timely  fashion  .  but  it’s  not  simple  ,  even  though  he  could  have  satisfied  their  question  with  one  word  .  yes  .  his  hand  lifts  ,  slowly  ,  gently  placing  a  thumb  to  the  skin  of  clive’s  face  that  had  been  rubbed  clean  moments  ago  .  the  remainder  of  his  fingers  rest  on  the  musician’s  jaw  .  a  careful  motion  ,  wondering  ,  to  trace  a  glimpse  of  the  other’s  unhidden  skin  .    ❝    it  baffles  me  that  my  opinion  means  so  much  to  you  …    ❞    absentminded  speaking  ,  buying  time  as  he  sighs  .  he  must  rip  the  bandage  off  .    ❝    i  think  you  are  beautiful  like  yourself  …  that  you  are   beautiful  ,  makeup  or  not  .    ❞

REALITY COMES knocking cruelly at the fickle obsessive nature of clive’s longwinded romance with beauty. it’s a distraction, their grandmother would say, ever the blunt. she was all harsh lines and quick, daunting answers to just as agonizing questions. clive found themselves stumbling into the whimsy of costume and makeup as soon as they could function consciously, and that delicate, decorated bubble was in danger of being popped now, here, with the king and his rationale strapped to him like a sword just as sharp as his observations. clive is wide-eyed.

“because  — “ the answer drowns out, and clive settles into listening once more. more curious about his words than their own, now. tight lips droop into a lax state, disbelief; clive wears it like draping pearls, destined to lose their shine. they can always huff breath onto them and bring them to shine anew, and perhaps that’s what the king was doing. invisible pearls! at first, the words are new, yes, but they don’t sting. compliments, the sparkly and quickly satisfying ones, sting because they’re instant and bloated and full of cream and red lipstick and diamonds. this was the kind of sincerity that filled people with fear, and filled cheeks with hot blood leaving skin chafed and red and foreheads slick. so that’s clive, slick and red, gaping up at his highness. like yourself. mouth opens for words, but no such words come in suit. baffles me that my opinion means so much to you. nearly breathless, “..but, forgive me, it’s  — “ clive won’t make a fool of themselves any further. 

well, perhaps this promise will be put into effect a little later on, because clive’s very next move is not one of the subtle sort. on their toes, lunging forward, a kiss for the king, a deep press of fleshy pink. gratitude, in earnest, lustful lustful lustful yearning. it’s all that idolizing, sickly infatuation bubbling up and spilling over into this greater than life figure of peace and slaughter. and it’s the king’s way of being that heavyweight on common ground that gets to clive, keeping things still, being that security. even in conversation, his highness was keeping clive from floating away.

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

             A  KING  LEADS  BY  EXAMPLE  .  a  notion  that  has  been  burned  inside  of  his  being  ,  one  he  has  clung  to  since  his  coronation  .  what  he  wants  ,  what  he  feels  ,  none  of  that  matters  …  not  when  a  kingdom’s  wellbeing  rests  on  his  shoulders  .  nicholas  has  always  given  his  people  what  they  deserve  ;  a  focused  ,  calculated  king  who  puts  nothing  but  them  first  .  dreams  he  once  had  as  a  child  are  gone  ,  whisked  away  with  a  future  that  would  never  belong  to  him  .  it  was  fruitless  to  ponder  about  opportunities  and  adventures  ,  songs  and  stories  …  what  was  the  need  when  none  would  ever  be  real  ?  perhaps  the  mistake  had  been  indulging  in  those  fantasies  ,  in  the  idea  he  could  earn  a  companion  outside  of  those  who  saw  him  as  a  hardened  king  .  he  was  never  entirely  sure  how  clive  viewed  him  ,  but  now  he  fears  had  they  seen  him  as  a  mere  king  ,  that  perspective  will  never  change  .

             a  quick  breath  is  sucked  in  ,  nearly  knocking  him  back  and  out  of  focus  again  .  in  the  panic  ,  nicholas  hadn’t  realized  the  weight  of  his  words  and  what  the  other  would  fixate  on  –  something  that  kept  his  appearance  with  shades  of  a  sunset  .  the  king  finds  himself  conflicted  ,  not  wanting  to  lie  but  feeling  …  embarrassed  to  admit  such  a  thing  .  bashfully  ,  he  nods  ,  as  if  saying  something  so  sweet  would  strike  him  dead  .  the  optimism  in  clive  has  returned  ,  something  nick  is  comforted  by  .  he  would  surely  rather  be  dead  than  take  away  such  a  thing  .  it’s  not  often  he  himself  is  able  to  have  such  wonderful  ,  world  changing  views  .    ❝    well  ,  i  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that  .  i  would  never  say  such  a  thing  ,    ❞    to  you  ,  he  wants  to  add  ,  but  doesn’t  .  the  extent  of  his  compliments  have  nearly  vanished  ,  not  one  to  be  so  genuinely  kind  .  it’s  so  …  different  ,  to  act  in  such  a  way  ,  but  nicholas  welcomes  the  atmosphere  .  he  quickly  bounces  on  his  heel  ,  pressed  up  against  brick  once  more  ,  unable  to  hide  the  smallest  of  smiles  .    ❝    would  you  rather  me  stay  ,  then  ?  i  can  so  boldly  say  i  would  wish  to  ,  if  that’s  what  you  desire  .  i  will  inquire  you  of  better  curiosities  ,  you  have  my  word  .    ❞

CLIVE’S DIZZIED STILL, surrounding the concept of beauty through the king’s particularly valued lens like a curious breeze cutting through the centerpiece of a bonfire. it doesn’t quite leave clive’s face, even as his highness speaks of other things; of sorrys and offers. all lost in a daze. clive smiles loose, sincere. “my king,” they settle, “i’d have you forever if it weren’t so terribly selfish.” brows crease and eyes screw at the concept  —  they could lock away the king forever in their heart or in their mangy bed or perhaps both! and he’d stand out like lipstick on a bruised face. they let go of a heavy sigh, almost sing-song, and clive finds hold of his coat and tugs tugs tugs. prodding, gently, playing, taking their time with the way the fabric feels.

eyes flutter downward, “your highness,” they begin, head tilting, still focused with an odd fitting intent on the material sliding between their digits. “..would you say i am beautiful like your wife? like a woman?” it’s said with the slightest knowledge that it’s unpolished and uncouth. then eyes flick upward, daring, almost challenging. it’s got this particular sadness along with it, a desperation. to be beautiful and to be found beautiful, outside of this wishful veil they preferred to sport. like most things, it derails; a quick shake of the head, some stutters in suit. all too much. “..sorry. you must forgive me for asking  —  you see, it’s not often i find myself in the company of.. well respected folk. and, well, you’re as respected as it gets. and  — “ a pause, “and if you found me beautiful then, well, how could i detest it myself?” a pause, an idea. subtly jerks with the suddenness of it, “you could lie,  — “ they say, offering. “..you could spare an improper moment, couldn’t you? to lie and make a silly bard beautiful?”

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

            THEIR  HOPE  AND  EXCITEMENT  COMES  tumbling  to  an  end  with  the  worst  possible  outcome  .  could  he  had  worded  it  differently  ,  treaded  more  carefully  as  to  spare  clive’s  feelings  in  his  own  selfishness  ?  it  was  only  mere  moments  before  he  was  promising  himself  this  would  not  turn  into  something  of  his  own  desire  .  nicholas  decides  he  should  have  never  questioned  their  appearance  at  all  .  it  had  not  come  from  ill  intentions  or  judgement  ,  but  pure  curiosity  and  fascination  .  none  of  that  matters  ,  not  when  the  other’s  demeanor  has  changed  into  something  nick  has  yet  to  have  seen  …  something  ,  had  he  have  known  ,  would  not  have  wanted  to  see  .  his  heart  pounds  in  his  chest  ,  nerves  turning  his  face  and  ears  a  bright  red  ,  wondering  if  the  other  will  retaliate  .  there  are  no  weapons  on  him  and  he  wouldn’t  dare  to  use  them  anyway  .  no  ,  if  clive  is  to  strike  him  down  ,  nicholas  would  think  it  fair  .

             more  than  anything  ,  he  wants  to  push  himself  from  where  he  leans  to  assure  clive  of  his  regret  .  that  he  takes  it  all  back  ,  every  word  !  to  think  he  could  perhaps  have  made  a  friend  and  now  ,  now  the  other  surely  hates  him  .  as  someone  who  has  never  cared  about  other’s  opinions  of  him  ,  he  finds  as  if  the  air  around  them  has  tightened  .  his  lip  is  tucked  tightly  between  his  teeth  ,  no  doubt  drawing  blood  as  he  impatiently  waits  for  the  musician  to  say  something  ,  anything  .  nicholas  knows  nothing  of  makeup  or  why  anyone  would  bother  with  something  so  pointless  ,  but  clive’s  words  have  him  nodding  incessantly  .  as  much  as  he  wants  to  speak  ,  there  is  suddenly  a  lump  in  his  throat  and  all  his  focus  centers  on  his  own  breathing  .  he  fears  if  only  for  a  second  his  focus  is  elsewhere  then  he  will  forget  and  collapse  .  why  is  he  so  concerned  ?  he  has  never  quite  cared  to  offend  others  before  ,  but  the  thought  he  has  ruined  such  a  curious  friendship  in  the  making  has  him  angry  at  himself  .  it’s  why  his  eyes  shut  at  the  step  forward  ,  expecting  a  swift  contact  of  a  hand  to  his  cheek  but  not  in  the  way  that  clive  chooses  .    ❝    wha  –    ❞    he  whispers  ,  eyes  wild  and  wiping  at  the  substance  as  if  it’s  nothing  he’s  ever  seen  before  .  it’s  certainly  nothing  he’s  ever  had  on  himself  .

              yet  ,  he  doesn’t  think  about  the  smudged  makeup  on  his  cheek  .  his  jaw  drops  open  at  the  other’s  request  and  it’s  then  ,  finally  then  that  nicholas  is  able  to  speak  .    ❝    no  !  no  ,  god  ,  that  is  not  what  i  …    ❞    eyes  shut  and  head  whipping  side  to  side  ,  there  seems  nothing  he  can  say  to  make  this  better  .  such  bold  words  are  long  gone  ,  replaced  with  unsure  answers  and  what  clive  suspects  the  king  wants  to  hear  .    ❝    i  do  not  want  you  to  remove  it  ,  that  is  your  decision  and  yours  alone  .  it  is  beautiful  ,  it  is  ,  you’re  beautiful  ,  i  was  only  …  i  don’t  know  anything  about  it  ,  i  only  wanted  to  learn  .    ❞    his  hands  have  unfolded  themselves  ,  now  tugging  at  his  sides  .  nick  has  slipped  a  few  inches  to  the  side  ,  away  from  clive  as  the  other  has  already  done  .    ❝    i  have  offended  you  .  i’m  sorry  ,  i  will  take  my  leave  and  bother  you  no  more  .    ❞   

THE KING HAD BEEN A CARICATURE inside clive’s decorated mind. sat atop a throne in a void of space, jewels hanging, bright eyes holding authority, snapping weak wrists and swallowing down jugs of red. all parades and fantastical! light to the moth-like eyes of entertainers wishing to break the barrier between desperation and a royal’s adoration. though here, sprawled against imperfect brick and backtracking as if caught in a lie, the king’s iron crown in clive’s head transfigures into that of braided vines and flowers. jewels now framed like rosebuds! swarmed by butterflies and jealous gnats. two pairs of wild eyes gape. clive observes with their twitching smile of indifference which is always combatting familiar whimsy, and listens. clive wants to kiss his open mouth. 

as if presented a prize, clive perks up, alight in a rather delightful fashion now. how many things had his highness called beautiful! clive was one of those things! hurrah! smile blossoms, sincere. “oh, your highness. do you truly find me beautiful?” so many things forgotten or rather abandoned, and that step back is revoked, closer now. clive is excitable and curious, eager to take big sips of the king’s thoughts about them. their incentive to leave felt like a horror. “you have not! you have done no such thing! please  — “ was it so unattractive to beg, that vibrato of desperation in their voice? or was it admirable? clive thinks once of getting down on their knees, dirtying them brown and pink, and pouring their heart out, but does no such thing. “if anyone has ever made you feel a bother i should send them the dirtiest of looks and a sour plum to suck on! and you should know offense by your word is FAR less cruel than some compliments i’ve received, your majesty! you simply wouldn’t believe some of the things i have heard! far worse!” fights the urge to grab hold of their garment and tug, so hands are vague in the air.

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

             HIS  BRIGHT  EYES  HARDLY  LEAVE  the  other  ,  filled  to  the  brim  with  curiosity  and  wonder  .  nicholas  cannot  decide  if  he  is  being  selfish  with  clive  or  not  ,  but  hopes  the  situation  turns  into  the  latter  if  it  isn’t  already  .  the  flattery  is  more  than  welcoming  and  though  their  words  aren’t  entirely  true  ,  the  king  of  aura   has  no  problem  claiming  them  as  such  .  if  his  words  aren’t  law  ,  then  whose  are  ?  certainly  his  must  be  !    ❝    the  one  and  only  living,    ❞    nick  agrees  ,  head  turned  to  hide  an  amused  grin  .

             ❝    i  agree  ,  i  agree  very  much  .  aura  means  a  great  deal  to  me  .    ❞    an  understatement  ,  if  there  ever  was  .  if  it  were  up  to  him  ,  nicholas  would  never  leave  his  home  .  why  would  he  leave  the  greatest  kingdom  there  ever  was  ,  with  all  the  entertainment  and  art  one  could  ever  need  ?  in  a  daze  about  his  land  ,  he  nearly  loses  sight  of  clive  through  the  crowds  of  people  .  a  quickened  pace  and  shuffled  steps  later  ,  the  unfamiliar  setting  seems  perfectly  fitting  for  a  quiet  conversation  .  the  other  seems  more  comfortable  rather  than  out  in  the  open  which  calms  nicholas’  nerves  about  catching  smallpox  and  the  like  .  his  back  rests  against  brick  ,  fingertips  tracing  the  patterns  of  vines  through  cracks  of  cement  .  again  ,  for  a  moment  ,  the  man  loses  focus  but  regains  again  at  the  sound  of  clive’s  voice  .    ❝    hmm  ?  oh  ,  no  ,  this  is  splendid  .  i  never  knew  this  existed  ,    ❞    it  seems  obvious  ,  a  path  between  businesses  but  nicholas  has  never  done  much  exploring  in  the  center  aisle  .  there’s  much  he  lacks  about  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  marketplace  .

             his  hands  fall  to  his  sides  ,  folding  behind  him  to  rest  against  brick  as  the  rest  of  him  slouches  with  ease  .    ❝    again  ,  i  hope  my  boldness  does  not  offend  you  …  as  i  certainly  do  not  mean  to  do  so  !  you  are  talented  and  paid  well  ,  i’m  sure  ,  but  why  the  …  facade  ?    ❞    the  best  way  he  can  describe  the  powdered  cheeks  and  hidden  appearance  .  is  it  not  a  hinderance  ,  an  annoyance  ?   besides  the  beauty  ,  what  is  the  appeal  ?    ❝    i  believed  it  was  a  stage  preference  ,  but  even  now  you’re  adorned  in  such  …  incredible  attire  and  makeup  .  i  only  ask  from  curiosity  ,  nothing  else  .  does  it  not  …  itch  ?    ❞    his  head  is  tilted  ,  blinking  back  at  clive  with  not  a  hint  of  knowledge  .

CLIVE HAD MANAGED to find a pocket in the universe for themself and a king. a king and a queen in their own right! nick speaks and in its wake is a trail of importance, every word like a testament to clive’s ears, so captivating  —  they knew of those who despised him and that veil of gossip that seemed to coil around him, invisible snakes, but they also knew of those who adored his each and every step, celebrated him. you could say clive falls into the latter half of the split sea of diamonds and beheadings. they’d follow the king into fire if only for the small, kind smiles and clothes he wore and wore well, and for the passion, seemingly stifled with professionalism, but there nevertheless. you can never miss that sort of thing in the eyes; you could conceal a smile but never a sparkle. 

the word FACADE sets clive on fire in quick succession. it’s quick like a slap to begin, cheeks crimson-hot, ablaze under the aforementioned facade. his smile flickers like a flame, in and out as if indecisive, twitching almost manically. so clive has to turn away for a moment, tinkering their fingers together for a moment in theatrical thought. facade, facade, facade. the king had made that word beautiful, so perhaps it was. so why this stinging in their chest? a curt turn, smile returning, tight. “makeup is meant to be beautiful, is it not?” simple, but a bit weak. out of character for clive, and they feel like shriveling. a step forward, clive presses a finger to their own cheek, one hard streak downward. remnants of blushy pink and pale white left on the pad of their index. clive stares at it for a moment, puzzled. then, steps forward, until they’re right before the king where he slumped, glorious. clive wipes the makeup clad finger along nick’s cheek in the same blunt line used to collect the beauty, the facade. they think about being beheaded for it, and try not to smile. 

it’s slightly dull when they speak now, their spark isn’t reliable anymore. dull but so, so willing. “..i could take it all off if you only wish it, your highness.” their eyes hold a certain vulnerability when they flicker back up from their cheek, now stained, meeting royal blue. “it does not itch,” they say now, a lie. as the day went on, when it creases around the eyes, they’ll have red patches once it’s washed off. though they had never minded looking flushed. some might mistake it for being sun kissed, and isn’t that delightful? “it makes me beautiful.” taking on a confidence less flamboyant, and if they were speaking to anyone else, it might’ve come off agitated. a step back, “is this what you wished to speak of, your majesty?” like popping a bubble. clive thinks, later, they will have a cry. one tear for his majesty and his bright, questioning blues, one tear for the smudge down their cheek, and one for the dirty weed still tucked behind their ear. 

[isdecorated]

northernsfury‌:

            THE  REMORSE  OF  HIS  PREVIOUS  WORDS  resurface  at  the  other’s  kind  hospitality  ,  seeming  as  though  nothing  could  phase  them  .  nicholas  is  grateful  for  their  forgiveness  ,  even  when  it  seems  like  there  was  none  to  be  given  .  the  king  nods  ,  not  so  much  as  smiling  but  features  softening  into  something  similar  .    ❝    oh  ,  no  no  !  please  ,  keep  your  tongue  .    ❞    his  cheeks  again  darken  shades  ,  caught  off  guard  by  the  bold  choice  of  words  .  it’s  not  common  for  him  to  be  spoken  to  in  such  a  manner  and  had  it  been  someone  of  an  unwelcome  company  ,  nick  would  look  upon  them  in  a  more  negative  light  .  however  ,  he’s  curious  about  clive  and  in  all  honesty  ,  he  finds  them  quite  amusing  .  the  last  thing  he  wants  to  do  is  offend  them  .

           ❝    quite  an  awful  way  to  go  .  yet  ,  if  they  are  gone  ,  does  that  not  make  you  the  one  and  only  …  living  ,  at  least  ?    ❞    his  brow  is  arched  and  the  words  seem  foreign  rolling  off  his  tongue  ,  not  one  to  idle  himself  with  small  conversation  .  their  company  is  something  he  enjoys  ,  nicholas  has  determined  ,  but  will  sooner  catch  smallpox  than  admit  such  a  thing  .

            he  pulls  his  lip  in  between  his  teeth  ,  tilting  his  head  at  the  bard’s  compliments  .  nicholas  is  surely  one  to  bask  in  admiration  for  himself  but  god  ,  does  he  hope  they  are  genuine  and  without  intentions  .    ❝    thank  you  ,  clive  ,  i  hope  you  stay  in  aura  as  long  as  possible  .    ❞    a  downside  of  being  a  kingdom  focused  on  the  greatest  talents  in  the  world  –  they  hardly  ever  stay  .  finally  ,  he  chuckles  at  the  kind  sentiment  ,  expression  pulling  into  a  tiny  grin  .    ❝    of  course  ,  we  should  get  out  of  these  chaos  ridden  streets  …  shall  we  find  a  tavern  ?  or  elsewhere  you  are  comfortable  with  ?    ❞    nicholas  offers  ,  already  folding  his  hands  and  taking  steps  forward  .

IT’S A GREEN LIGHT GO and clive wonders if his highness knows just how much his words mean to them. oh, to be the one and only once more! as they were as a child, silly with dirty knees idolizing the greats of literature and the life around him, and as they are now, silly with powdered cheeks and admiring the great of where they resided, home. “i’m utterly charmed, sir. your word is law, after all.” completely giddy, like a stray tossed scraps. “the one and only living!” a new statement for the flyers.

a smile grows wildly, silly, toothy and admiring. happy. clive’s cheeks sting and it’s delightful. “i’m never gone for long! how could i? i always find myself longing for her beauty and grace. nothing quite fits or sticks like home does, wouldn’t you agree?” there’s a pearl earring dangling from clive’s right ear, and mindlessly they pluck it off and stuff it into a pocket. too heavy. their ears will be sore and red later in the day. clive perks up, “i know just the place!” feet scurrying, like fleeing mice at the hands of a big bang, clive clunks against cobble determined and sweetened with curiosity and the king’s company. he’ll write this down in a journal soon enough; spent the latter of the afternoon searching for solace with the king himself, all glory and coy! hurrah! there’s a gap between two buildings, all loneliness and brick and vines. it’s quiet and charming and deep, like clive’s dimpled cheek. it’s no tavern, but clive’s pining for the king’s skin against the flush of the brick. a marvelous palette! clive turns a sharp corner into the peace of the slivered alley, the ruckus of the center aisle a vague muffle from there. clive walks down its length experienced and eager; not a newcomer. “it won't hold a candle to the marble of the taverns you must be used to, but i’m fond of it.” it’s soft and sincere, a quick change of tone. a peak behind extravagance. clive picks up a daisy adorned with a few weeds and tucks it, dirt specks be damned, behind an ear. ready, a breath. they jut out a hip. “..now, what was your inquiry, your highness?”