# POWEIR : chaos isn ' t a pit , chaos is a ladder . many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again . the fall breaks them . and some are given a chance to climb , but they refuse . they cling to the realm , or the gods , or love ā illusions . only the ladder is real . the climb is all there is . [ #poweir is a private compendium of muses written by river for #hqmetia ]
Ram, uncharacteristically, felt a sort of change within him after the disastrous end to the ball in Valtolia. The thought of the Bergian prince losing his life to mindless violence reminded him of his own son āthe one he enthusiastically cast asideā all those years ago, and...
Perhaps the time had come for him to make up for his cruelty. Just a little bit.
"Yes, I did," Ram confirms, turning to face the other. Darian really did remind him of himself; he did not himself look dissimilar at the young man's age. A bit smaller in frame, of course, but that was true of most people he encountered.
"Iā" he begins, measuring his words. "I'm not unaware of the unfair treatment you've been given since we first formally met. You've landed on your feet alright and made a name for yourself, yes, but as your fathā"
Another pause.
"Would you be amenable to open a regular dialogue with me? Meet at frequent intervals to... talk...?"
heĀ wasĀ fourteenĀ whenĀ heĀ learnedĀ theĀ truth .Ā aĀ bastard ,Ā butĀ notĀ justĀ anyĀ bastard .Ā theĀ king ā sĀ get,Ā bornĀ ofĀ someĀ long - buriedĀ sin .Ā theyĀ toldĀ himĀ asĀ ifĀ itĀ wereĀ aĀ gift ,Ā butĀ whatĀ didĀ itĀ everĀ bringĀ himĀ butĀ scorn ?Ā theĀ lordsĀ ofĀ courtĀ lookedĀ throughĀ him ,Ā pastĀ him ,Ā aroundĀ him .Ā theirĀ sonsĀ sneeredĀ whenĀ theyĀ thoughtĀ heĀ wouldn ā tĀ see ,Ā andĀ laughedĀ whenĀ theyĀ knewĀ heĀ could .Ā heĀ wasĀ tooĀ basebornĀ toĀ standĀ amongĀ them ,Ā tooĀ nobleĀ toĀ crawlĀ backĀ toĀ theĀ guttersĀ whereĀ he ā dĀ beenĀ raised .Ā soĀ heĀ driftedĀ between ,Ā belongingĀ nowhere ,Ā aĀ bladeĀ withoutĀ aĀ sheath .
theĀ kingĀ hadĀ putĀ aĀ roofĀ overĀ hisĀ head ,Ā yes .Ā butĀ heĀ hadĀ neverĀ onceĀ placedĀ aĀ handĀ onĀ hisĀ shoulder ,Ā neverĀ calledĀ himĀ son ,Ā neverĀ spokenĀ hisĀ nameĀ unlessĀ dutyĀ demandedĀ it .Ā andĀ now ,Ā afterĀ allĀ theseĀ years ,Ā afterĀ allĀ theĀ tears had dried , after the battles ,Ā afterĀ allĀ theĀ blood .
the king ā hisĀ father ā stumbles overĀ theĀ word ,Ā asĀ ifĀ itĀ tastesĀ strangeĀ onĀ hisĀ tongue .Ā darianĀ feelsĀ itĀ likeĀ yet anotherĀ knifeĀ betweenĀ theĀ ribs . his knuckles tighten . his jaw sets . " after all this time . . . now you want to talk ? "
[ @poweir sent in: 47. for lucy - ft . dealer's choice. ]
this, if found out, would cause commotion. two crowned princes, laid naked and bare, devouring one another as if the hunger has taken hold to the point that nothing and no one else matters. that's lust, lucealyx thinks, all consuming.
they're both young men, survivors of the war, and destined for the throned. they're allowed to be consumed, allowed to do as they please within reason.
lucealyx's breath hitches as edric pryor, crowned prince of bergia, licks a stripe along the tight rim of his hole. the prince's hand wraps around his cock, hanging hard as stone, between his legs and strokes him as he does it. "fuck." lucealyx moans out low, like his throat is full of gravel. he rolls his hips back, hands fisted into the prince's sheets as he spreads himself open for the prince.
one feast for the other to devour before lucealyx's own hunger gets the best of him.
ā ā š¦ ā Ā edricĀ hasĀ alwaysĀ beenĀ ice ā butĀ here ,Ā beneathĀ him ,Ā againstĀ him ,Ā aroundĀ him ā thereĀ isĀ fire . heatĀ radiatesĀ fromĀ the sun ' s bare , goldenĀ skin ,Ā feverishĀ andĀ all - consuming ,Ā burningĀ againstĀ hisĀ lips ,Ā hisĀ hands ,Ā hisĀ tongue .Ā heĀ tracesĀ slow ,Ā deliberateĀ circlesĀ aroundĀ theĀ prince ' s tightĀ ring ,Ā revelingĀ inĀ theĀ wayĀ itĀ clenchesĀ beneathĀ hisĀ touch .Ā heĀ pressesĀ aĀ kissĀ there ,Ā teasing ,Ā beforeĀ lettingĀ hisĀ tongueĀ slipĀ past ,Ā flicking ,Ā tasting .Ā theĀ heatĀ isĀ intoxicating ā spiced ,Ā rich ,Ā summer - like . somethingĀ heĀ wasĀ neverĀ meantĀ toĀ indulgeĀ in .
theĀ bodyĀ beneathĀ himĀ shifts ,Ā writhes ,Ā chasingĀ hisĀ touch ,Ā andĀ edricĀ smirksĀ againstĀ flushedĀ skin as the prince moans , before allowing hisĀ fingersĀ followĀ theĀ pathĀ hisĀ tongueĀ hadĀ taken before .Ā slickĀ andĀ teasingĀ asĀ theyĀ pressĀ againstĀ theĀ tightĀ heat ,Ā justĀ barelyĀ breaching before starting to curl ,Ā coaxingĀ theĀ fireĀ toĀ openĀ forĀ him ,Ā toĀ welcomeĀ him .
" fuck . " his own cock aches , throbbing and demanding his own release . but he takes his time , circling his wrist with his fingers inside the prince with ease , as a minstrel would his instrument . searching , stretching , teasing . " you part so beautifully for me . "
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Alphaeus most certainly did not want to compete in the colosseum games. He abhorred violence, and would have much rather spent his time in Argonia doing literally anything else.
(This seemed to be one major point of distinction between he and his father, and his brothers for that matter as well.)
There was, however, one fighter he held some interest in. The one he ran into a bit earlier, while he trained for the event. Tried as he might, he could not get the handsomely threatening (and threateningly handsome) man out of his head. The way he so easily attacked the sandbags, wielding his weapons as though they were tools of his trade, sweat glistening down his muscular physiqueā
And then Alfi slams into another person, seemingly also en route to their designated seats. Typical clumsy Alfi.
"Oh, I am so sorryā" he says, immediately apologizing. "I am such an fool, I should have seen you coming... are you alright? Did I hurt you?"
lian ā sĀ gazeĀ wanderedĀ overĀ theĀ seaĀ ofĀ spectators,Ā theĀ nobilityĀ andĀ royaltyĀ alike,Ā allĀ dressedĀ inĀ theirĀ finestĀ garments.Ā itĀ wasĀ grand ,Ā itĀ wasĀ breathtaking ,Ā andĀ yet ,Ā asĀ muchĀ asĀ heĀ wantedĀ toĀ beĀ sweptĀ awayĀ byĀ theĀ sheerĀ beautyĀ ofĀ it ,Ā hisĀ heartĀ flutteredĀ withĀ aĀ strangeĀ mixtureĀ ofĀ excitementĀ andĀ unease . there would be blood , and men would fall . he had never witnessed that . would his lungs close ? would his stomach revolt at the sight ? he exused himself from the royal box for a second , and then --
Tassian knew this could cause trouble but what really did he care. The arrogance of youth pulsed in his veins as he stepped off his dragon onto the balcony of Lian. He hadn't really seen the prince since the other families had come to their land. He wasn't really sure if that was due to him being busy or the other wanting to hide away. Either way the dragon rider didn't like it.
He was glad the door to the other's room was unlocked as he walked in. "I don't think have seen you in a whole week and Nuvem said if i didn't come to check on you then he would roast me alive." The joke wasn't far from the truth. His dragon hadn't threatened his life but did want to make sure the prince was doing well.
"have you taken a tour of the market yet its dark out but all the lights make it look like sea of stars. If you arent busy we can go for a ride to look at it." Time to get the prince out of his room. And if the other held on to him as the sat on the back of his dragon so be it.
ā ā šŖ· ā Ā theĀ nightĀ airĀ wasĀ coolĀ againstĀ hisĀ skin ,Ā carryingĀ withĀ itĀ theĀ distantĀ humĀ ofĀ musicĀ andĀ laughterĀ fromĀ theĀ cityĀ below .Ā fromĀ theĀ tower ,Ā theĀ lights of the townĀ shimmeredĀ likeĀ scatteredĀ gems ,Ā castingĀ aĀ goldenĀ glowĀ overĀ theĀ windingĀ streets .Ā itĀ wasĀ aĀ beautifulĀ sight ā oneĀ heĀ hadĀ longedĀ toĀ seeĀ upĀ close ,Ā yet , the king of argonia had bidden his youngest son to remainĀ withinĀ theĀ palaceĀ walls . . .Ā andĀ then ,Ā ofĀ course ,Ā thereĀ hadĀ beenĀ the matter of the prince ' sĀ health .
ā tassian , ā he had barely turned from the window when tassian strode into his chambers . his scent of wind and air , as if he had brought the great skies with him . his presence a gentle breeze ā unexpected , yet undeniably welcome . yet ,Ā surpriseĀ flickeredĀ acrossĀ the prince ' sĀ featuresĀ at his entrance , beforeĀ giving way to somethingĀ softer .Ā itĀ hadĀ beenĀ daysĀ sinceĀ theyĀ lastĀ spoke .Ā perhapsĀ heĀ shouldĀ haveĀ soughtĀ himĀ outĀ sooner .Ā
while he's not known the knight of casther, at least on a friendly basis, he knows of him. kovider, beneath the colosseum, where some of the others that would be fighting have gathered to await their turn for glory in the sand pits. kovider is dressed in his medesian clothes, golden orange and black, strung over his shoulders, golden choker around his throat. his hair is dampened from the heat and no weapons hang on his hips. he does not need them, after all.
seeing the castherian man, a man from where he was told he was born but has no true connection to, he looks at him and then the men around them. "do you know your opponent yet?" he asks him, arms folding over his chest. "hearing the crowd cheering gets the adrenaline going, doesn't it? makes my body feel alive."
āĀ āĀ āļøĀ āĀ amongst fighting men and fellow knights he ' s just darian . not ser darian the daring , nor darian viridian , not the king ' s bastard . that ' s all for the public . down here , there are no courtly masks , nor heroic grace . hisĀ gazeĀ sweepsĀ overĀ theĀ goldenĀ chokerĀ atĀ theĀ man ā sĀ throat ,Ā theĀ myre colors clinging to his frame ,Ā yetĀ noĀ swordĀ atĀ hisĀ hip ,Ā noĀ daggerĀ atĀ hisĀ belt ā naughtĀ toĀ markĀ himĀ aĀ warrior ,Ā butĀ powerĀ clungĀ toĀ himĀ allĀ theĀ same .Ā somethingĀ else ,Ā somethingĀ unseen .Ā mage ,Ā or witcher ,Ā perhaps . oneĀ thing ā sĀ certain :Ā he ā sĀ dangerous .
ā don ā tĀ knowĀ whoĀ i ā mĀ fightin āĀ yet , āĀ darianĀ muttered ,Ā hisĀ voiceĀ roughĀ withĀ theĀ scrapeĀ ofĀ yearsĀ spentĀ inĀ battle .Ā ā don ā tĀ muchĀ matter .Ā the lot o ' them allĀ lookĀ theĀ same .Ā eager .Ā hungry .Ā tryin āĀ toĀ carveĀ outĀ aĀ nameĀ forĀ themselves .Ā butĀ onceĀ theĀ bloodĀ startsĀ spillin ā ,Ā thatĀ hungerĀ don ā tĀ lastĀ long . ā
ā theĀ crowd,Ā huh? " heĀ tiltedĀ hisĀ head ,Ā aĀ smirkĀ ghostingĀ acrossĀ hisĀ lips .Ā ā the roar willĀ setĀ yourĀ bloodĀ toĀ boilin ā ,Ā stirĀ itĀ allĀ upĀ insideĀ you .Ā butĀ itĀ ain ā tĀ justĀ that ,Ā isĀ it ? "Ā his voice is low , inbetween knowing and amusement . " for me , for example . . . it ā sĀ feelin āĀ ā emĀ watchin ā ,Ā waitin ā ,Ā hangin āĀ onĀ everyĀ move .Ā thatĀ rush . . .Ā gods ,Ā itĀ makesĀ aĀ manĀ feelĀ likeĀ he ā sĀ theĀ onlyĀ thingĀ inĀ theĀ worldĀ thatĀ matters .Ā getsĀ underĀ yourĀ skin ,Ā makesĀ youĀ burn .Ā almost better than a good fuckin ' , aye . . . almost . ā
not strong enough - boygenius .
shuffle starter call .
when : to be defined .
where : a private solar .
who : ser darian & king ram ( @courtiings )
ā ā āļø ā Ā the peopleĀ cheeredĀ hisĀ nameĀ inĀ theĀ streets ,Ā theĀ butcher ā sĀ sonĀ andĀ theĀ beggar ā sĀ child ,Ā theĀ smithĀ andĀ theĀ stablehand ,Ā allĀ ofĀ themĀ callingĀ himĀ theirĀ own .Ā ser darian the daring . theĀ champion of the people .Ā theirĀ sword .Ā butĀ here ,Ā within the palace walls , amongst nobility who spoke of his victories with tight mouths , and averted gazes , heĀ wasĀ nothingĀ moreĀ thanĀ whatĀ heĀ hadĀ alwaysĀ been ā a bastard in borrowed steel .Ā aĀ reminder of the blood they ' d rather forget .Ā the crownĀ wouldĀ wieldĀ himĀ whenĀ itĀ neededĀ him ,Ā butĀ neverĀ asĀ aĀ son . alwaysĀ anĀ angel ,Ā neverĀ aĀ god .Ā
ā you sent for me , āĀ he bowed his head , just enough , the deference practiced and careful . he knows the king would not ask for him , probably would not remember his existence were it not to ask something of him . steadyĀ words ,Ā quietĀ words .Ā aĀ knight ā sĀ words .Ā " so . . . what is it that you would you have of me , your grace ? "
he was used to white, gold was a new thing, mostly. in dinner tables, feasts, events like this one. draped over his clothes and all over the palace his father had. over the chambers that were once his brothers. it was an adjustment, of a sort but not one that he ever considered rejecting. yes, the finery was annoying, the fabric was restrictive were he was used to freedom of movement and the weight of chain mail. they weren't supposed to wear that at the dove concord though, they said, they came in peace, to celebrate it they said, while his brother's (for all the little love there was between them) bodies were not even done rotting in the ground yet.
a bunch of stuck up, silver spoon foolish nobles and royals. if hugh could speak his mind... it would get him nowhere, so he smiled, and made nice, and ignored the way their drinks twist his stomach into knots. this would not last.
"why..." he retorted, the familiar voice ringing in his ears, taking him back to barracks and mud, and blood sopping up his face. "did you think that was reserved for pretty bastard boys like you, pup?"
"i am sure they will whisper if they see me loitering around with the royal misstep," he said, jesting was a common weapon to shield them from the harsher attacks made on them, he could already see the lingering eyes, the snickers. it was through sheer will he controlled the sneer coming across his face, "but do not worry, i pay no mind to such small minds." he leaned in to whisper on his ear, "even if you are yet again below me, ser darian the pretty." he chuckled, caressing his chin for effect before he leaned away.
"i take it you're not having the time of your life celebrating the peace your father, our dear king," that last part was said louder than necessary, "secured?"
ā ā āļø ā Ā ā goldĀ suitsĀ you ,Ā lordĀ hugh . " hisĀ gazeĀ flickeredĀ pastĀ hughĀ forĀ aĀ moment ,Ā catchingĀ sightĀ ofĀ aĀ fewĀ highbornĀ menĀ murmuringĀ behindĀ theirĀ goblets ,Ā eyesĀ dartingĀ betweenĀ theĀ twoĀ ofĀ themĀ likeĀ crowsĀ waitingĀ forĀ scraps . picking apart every glance , every word no doubt to recount to their feeble friends later in the night .Ā heĀ metĀ theirĀ staresĀ head-on ,Ā and stepped closer to lord waynwood . daring them to say something .
ā below you ,Ā amĀ i ? ā Ā hisĀ voiceĀ dipped ,Ā playful ,Ā dark eyesĀ flickeringĀ upĀ beneathĀ longĀ lashes.Ā ā seemsĀ toĀ me ,Ā lastĀ timeĀ iĀ wasĀ beneathĀ you ,Ā youĀ wereĀ singin āĀ aĀ very differentĀ tune . ā
ā oh ,Ā aye ,Ā i ā mĀ livin āĀ theĀ dream .Ā swappin āĀ swordsĀ forĀ silk ,Ā battlefieldsĀ forĀ ballrooms .Ā ain ' tĀ itĀ justĀ theĀ life ? āĀ heĀ scoffed ,Ā shakingĀ hisĀ head .Ā ā i ā dĀ ratherĀ beĀ gut - deepĀ inĀ theĀ mireĀ againĀ thanĀ standĀ hereĀ listenin āĀ toĀ aĀ bunchĀ ofĀ lordsĀ toastin āĀ toĀ victoriesĀ theyĀ neverĀ foughtĀ for . ā
ā ourĀ dearĀ king , āĀ voiceĀ tight ,Ā gazeĀ darkening . king he might be , but he had never been much of a father .Ā " he talks of peace , but he doesn ' t talk of the cost ā blood . ours . our brothers . spilled so these lordlings could drink their wine a little easier . ā his smile faded , mood turning somber as he raked a hand through his head . ā aye .Ā i shouldĀ thank him ā for all his kindness . maybe even drop to my knees and sing his praises while i ' m at it . āĀ
ā ā š¦ ā Ā it had been foolish from the start . a witcher appointed to guard a secondborn prince was uncommon . brows bound to be raised , and whispers bound to be spread . a single man assigned to protect a member of the royal family ? unheard of . he had protested against the arrangement , loudly . another point of contention between iskander and himself . but his brother was stubborn , and the queen had always been soft when it came to the secondborn . together , they could convince the king of anything . even something as absurd as appointing a witcher as a prince ' s sole protector .
a disaster waiting to happen , edric had said about the assignment . the bond between iskander and his witcher was thinly veiled ā there for all to see , if not in name in everything else . in the way they talked , in the way they looked at eachother . one needed only know where to look .
a man cannot protect that which he cannot see clearly , his father had told him once . they were too involved . iskander was not daven ' s charge , and daven was not iskander ' s guard . . . a childhood friend now something else .
and so , because daven had grown within the walls of falreig , because iskander had wanted it , and because his mother had allowed it , here they were . and a disaster had come to pass . " no one questions your devotion to the prince . though it is not the one that is asked of you to complete your duty , ser . "
" enough ? " he repeats after the witcher . a beat . twisting the word . sharpening it into something cruel . the crown prince laughed . mirthless . as cold as frost . " you ask of me not to question your competence . . . and yet , the case makes itself , ser . my brother lays bedridden and you remain unscathed . do not kid yourself , daven . you are not enough . you have never been enough . you will never be enough . "
hairĀ : long , flowing black hair , smooth as silk and often tied back in the traditional styles of argonia . his hair is his pride , and he takes meticulous care of it .
eyesĀ : deep brown eyes filled with warmth and longing . the eyes of a dreamer gazing beyond the horizon .
heightĀ : 5 ā 10 " Ā ( 178 cm )
physiqueĀ : there is an air of delicacy to the youngest prince of argonia . slender , and graceful . lian was born with a minor affliction to his lungs , they tire easily and cannot endure prolonged physical exertion . while he carries himself with all the poise and grace expected of a prince , his breath sometimes comes shallow , forcing him to pause and gather himself . his body is untouched by the demands of labor , nor the scars of a war . he reflects a life of luxury wrapped in silk rather than steel .
demeanorĀ :Ā gentle , courteous and composed . lian posesses an innocent idealism , cherishing dreams of romance and honor , of a world waiting for him beyond the argonian borders .
distinguishingĀ characteristicsĀ :Ā a renowned beauty in the kingdom of argonia , prince lian is ethereal in appearance , almost faeborn . long black hair that contrasts against smooth pale skin . high cheekbones , and a defined jawline --- his features are sharp , yet soft . as if sculpted by delicate hands .
PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION
zodiacĀ signĀ : Ā pisces sun , cancer moon , libra rising .
characterĀ parallelsĀ : aang ( atla ) , aladdin ( aladdin ) , ariel ( the little mermaid ) , arthur ( the sword in the stone ) , belle ( beauty and the beast ) , edmund pevensie ( the chronicles of narnia ) , faramir ( lotr ) , haku ( spirited away ) , meg march ( little women ) , sansa stark ( asoiaf ) , snow white ( snow white and the seven dwarves )Ā
STORY
princeĀ lianĀ wasĀ notĀ bornĀ toĀ rule ,Ā norĀ toĀ fight ,Ā butĀ toĀ beĀ cherished .Ā aĀ fourth son ,Ā born frail ,Ā a deficiency in hisĀ lungsĀ . the healers said it would be a miracle if he made it . tooĀ weak . but the queen refused to listen to them .
when his mother died , he was eight . too young to understand the weight of grief , yet old enough to feel it ' s grip on his home . her passing left a hollow place in his heart , and in the hearts of those who remained . his brothers , once close , grew distant . his father , once indulgent , now turned away , as if looking at him were too great a burden . and so , lian remained in the castle . among tutors and courtiers , lonely . filling his days with music . fine clothes , and finer clothes but little love . for most of his childhood and adolescence , hetĀ hisĀ mindĀ driftĀ toĀ distantĀ shoresĀ andĀ foreignĀ courts ,Ā toĀ sun - drenchedĀ gardensĀ whereĀ loversĀ whisperedĀ beneathĀ marbleĀ arches .Ā heĀ wasĀ raisedĀ toĀ beĀ perfect ,Ā toĀ beĀ pleasing ,Ā toĀ beĀ wanted .Ā andĀ heĀ letĀ himselfĀ believeĀ thatĀ wouldĀ beĀ enough .
when : the dove concord .
where : the royal palace of veneca .
who : ser darian & lord hugh ( @viridianlord )
" well , well . . . " his voice was low and amused , no malice in it ā just the easy mockery of a friend . he could hardly recognize hugh . draped in fine silks and velvets . a far cry from the man who had fought by his side . covered in mud , and blood . " won ' t you look at you now . a lord , eh ? fancy ring and everythin ' . . . never thought i ' d see the day when a bastard like you ' d be rubbin ' elbows with all these highborn pricks . "
darian stepped forth , unsteady but sure as he moved towards hugh . the valtolian red in him made the room spin a bit ā but it didn ' t dull the sharp edge of his amusement . it all seemed so absurd , this highborn life . but here they were ā surrounded by courtesies and finery . one a lord , and one a knight , but both punished for the crime of their birth . both still standing at the edge of the gathering , two men who had fought for the very peace they celebrated , now cast aside by the nobility they bled for .
" should ya ' even be talkin ' to me , my lord ? " a mock bow , lip curling into a grin . " surely you shouldn ' t be seen keepin ' such lowly company now . "
when : after the attack .
where : outside iskander ' s bedchamber .
whomst : prince edric & ser daven ( @metianfolklores )
āĀ āĀ š¦Ā ā edricĀ stood : cold fury radiating from him like the bitter winds that howled across bergia ' s northern mountains . his gaze , hard as stone . fixed on daven with a chilling intensity . burning with an anger so pure it could freeze the very air . any trace of warmth , any trace of the courtly crown prince he was known to be , gone . in his stead , a man of ice and fury . one hidden away , and not seen since the war ended .
" wereĀ itĀ upĀ toĀ me , āĀ heĀ said ,Ā low and cold . each word a shard of ice aimed to hurt . his fists clenched at his side . knuckles white with anger . formalities lost , he addresses the witcher as the child he once knew . the meek squire that followed at his brother ' s heel like a lost puppy . ā iĀ wouldĀ haveĀ youĀ deposed . stripped of any positions . gone . ā
" you were supposed to protect him . " a slow , deliberate step . his presence a storm pressing around ser daven . tall , and imposing . suffocating . there was no mercy , just cold judgement . " and yet , when the moment came , you failed . you let him be attacked , and he was almost killed . "
" have you anything to say for yourself , witcher ? " his gaze does not waver . eyes narrow ever so slightly , as though daring him to talk back . the tension in the room palpable . " an explanation for your failure ? "