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@preservedfrostbite
There's beauty and there's danger here, split the ice apart ! And beware the frozen heart
Muses | Tags | Answered asks | Thread tracker
A twst oc-only multimuse written by Kori ; affiliated with @thearchivalsystem, @trxgicfxrce, @dreamsomnias, @stxrrydxsires (ask to be added/removed)
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
[He stares at Nick, surprised clearly at the quick whirl of movements. Kit will neither confirm nor deny whether seeing Nick on one knee apologizing like so made him slightly blush. He shook his head, dropping to one knee too and gently placing a hand on Nick’s.]
“Don’t apologize, Kitty… I ain’t mad, this isn’t your fault.”
“I still broke it.” Nicholas lets go of Kit's hand to hug them again, definitely not willing to let go of his only friend.
“You're my only friend. If I can't keep a simple promise like promising to not leave because I let myself get transported to the Victorian era, then what kind of friend am I.”
[Kit is a little bit disoriented with all the movement directed towards him so quickly, awkwardly hugging Nick back.]
“I-I guess but this isn’t just something that happens everyday, it was just bad luck so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Nicholas looks up at Kit with the biggest, saddest pout ever. Poor guy is genuinely distraught.
He looks just like a kicked kitten, truly fitting the nickname Kit gave him.
[Kit sighs and cups his friend’s face, expression changing and now speaking sternly.]
“Nicholas. Stop blaming yourself for this. It is not your fault, okay.”
“I myself told you it was okay. Okay?”
[He lets go and runs a hand through his hair.]
“Alright now, Kitty? You’re really fitting your nickname right about now, yknow.”
Nicholas still didn't look entirely convinced, but eventually nodded.
“Okay. Okay, okay, I got it. No more blaming myself.”
He's still kneeling on the ground, then eventually stands right back up when he remembers the role he's playing here. He clears his throat and dusts off his slacks.
“When did you get dragged here?”
”About … two days ago.”
[He holds up a little leather notebook.]
“I’ve been keeping track with this.”
“And you?”
“About the same. I arrived here with Skully, though I have no clue where he could possibly be right now. I'm just glad you're here.”
”Oh really? He’s here too? For all we know, there’s more people that have been transported here and more coming.”
[Kit seems to pause to seriously think about something, hand on his mouth before remembering Nick is there too.]
“So uh… what’s your deal here? What kinda persona are you playing? I’ll need to know so I don’t slip up while we’re here.”
“I'm playing the son of a marquis coming to visit for a change of scenery outside the capital. It's the role I played in life before... yeah. So it's coming to me naturally. And you?”
[He hums, recording the info for now and sheepishly admits.]
“I’m a simple island artisan, specializing in metalwork and jewelry! I’m honestly just myself… “
[Locket adds however, remembering that detail he had learned the other day.]
”Apparently my ancestors are famous sailors and heavy in the trade market, I didn’t know that though.”
“Also I didn’t know that about you.”
“It never came up... Plus, my entire house is kind of dead. But a sailor, hm? I can see it, you have that kind of air about you.”
[Kit shrugs, fiddling with a simple silver ring, dismissively saying.]
”Eh, I’m not too surprised bout it. Diamond Port’s full of em.”
[He tilts his head.]
“All dead in this era or all dead in our era?”
“...Shit you don't think- Oh I do not want to think about the fact that my family might still be alive in this era. They wouldn't be anywhere near here, but just the thought of them being alive makes me feel a little bit sick.” Nicholas fidgets with one of his cufflinks, then shifts closer to Kit and grabs onto his arm gently.
”Woah woah, Kitty, chill.”
[He gently places his hands on Nick’s arm, speaking softly.]
“Whatever they did to warrant that reaction clearly ain’t right so forget I asked. It’s like you said they’re probably nowhere near here and the chances of them coming here are probably zero. So don’t worry.”
“And if by chance anything does happen, I’ll be there for you.”
“Right. I have you. I don't want to think about them anymore. Let's go shopping instead. Well, window shopping. I don't have any money on me.”
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
[He stares at Nick, surprised clearly at the quick whirl of movements. Kit will neither confirm nor deny whether seeing Nick on one knee apologizing like so made him slightly blush. He shook his head, dropping to one knee too and gently placing a hand on Nick’s.]
“Don’t apologize, Kitty… I ain’t mad, this isn’t your fault.”
“I still broke it.” Nicholas lets go of Kit's hand to hug them again, definitely not willing to let go of his only friend.
“You're my only friend. If I can't keep a simple promise like promising to not leave because I let myself get transported to the Victorian era, then what kind of friend am I.”
[Kit is a little bit disoriented with all the movement directed towards him so quickly, awkwardly hugging Nick back.]
“I-I guess but this isn’t just something that happens everyday, it was just bad luck so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Nicholas looks up at Kit with the biggest, saddest pout ever. Poor guy is genuinely distraught.
He looks just like a kicked kitten, truly fitting the nickname Kit gave him.
[Kit sighs and cups his friend’s face, expression changing and now speaking sternly.]
“Nicholas. Stop blaming yourself for this. It is not your fault, okay.”
“I myself told you it was okay. Okay?”
[He lets go and runs a hand through his hair.]
“Alright now, Kitty? You’re really fitting your nickname right about now, yknow.”
Nicholas still didn't look entirely convinced, but eventually nodded.
“Okay. Okay, okay, I got it. No more blaming myself.”
He's still kneeling on the ground, then eventually stands right back up when he remembers the role he's playing here. He clears his throat and dusts off his slacks.
“When did you get dragged here?”
”About … two days ago.”
[He holds up a little leather notebook.]
“I’ve been keeping track with this.”
“And you?”
“About the same. I arrived here with Skully, though I have no clue where he could possibly be right now. I'm just glad you're here.”
”Oh really? He’s here too? For all we know, there’s more people that have been transported here and more coming.”
[Kit seems to pause to seriously think about something, hand on his mouth before remembering Nick is there too.]
“So uh… what’s your deal here? What kinda persona are you playing? I’ll need to know so I don’t slip up while we’re here.”
“I'm playing the son of a marquis coming to visit for a change of scenery outside the capital. It's the role I played in life before... yeah. So it's coming to me naturally. And you?”
[He hums, recording the info for now and sheepishly admits.]
“I’m a simple island artisan, specializing in metalwork and jewelry! I’m honestly just myself… “
[Locket adds however, remembering that detail he had learned the other day.]
”Apparently my ancestors are famous sailors and heavy in the trade market, I didn’t know that though.”
“Also I didn’t know that about you.”
“It never came up... Plus, my entire house is kind of dead. But a sailor, hm? I can see it, you have that kind of air about you.”
[Kit shrugs, fiddling with a simple silver ring, dismissively saying.]
”Eh, I’m not too surprised bout it. Diamond Port’s full of em.”
[He tilts his head.]
“All dead in this era or all dead in our era?”
“...Shit you don't think- Oh I do not want to think about the fact that my family might still be alive in this era. They wouldn't be anywhere near here, but just the thought of them being alive makes me feel a little bit sick.” Nicholas fidgets with one of his cufflinks, then shifts closer to Kit and grabs onto his arm gently.
finding pomefiore's resident disappointment
Greyson massaged the bridge of his nose as he slipped out of history class as soon as Professor Trein turned his back, footsteps light and quick as he retreated to his favorite spot in the courtyard. He sat down on a bench and pulled out his box of cigarettes, lighting one with a bit of magic and taking a long drag from it.
“Fucking finally.. I've been craving a smoke all day.” He mutters to himself, smoke drifting past his lips and curling into the air.
He thinks he's alone. But is he truly?
He's only halfway done with his cigarette when he hears the crunching of grass under shoes, and whips his head around, his void-like eyes wide with panic. He's absolutely dead if it's Vil or Rook who caught him, and even deader if Trein found him out here.
HURTS THE LUNGS, HURTS THE SOUL.
Vicente Cabro isn't well-known, but he isn't unknown, either. He's somewhere in the middle, and while he knows many people, he doesn't have a lot of them that he can call friends. Who knows— maybe Greyson Jude will be the one to become one of the rare people Vince calls a true friend. Maybe someone who isn't afraid to defy the rules is just what he needs.
Vince needs a break. He's only been in Night Raven College for a few months, and already he's getting overstimulated. He's never been away from his siblings for so long, the most being a day or two when he's out doing things. The absence of their chattering voices is jarring for him, and history class isn't really doing it for him when it comes to listening the growing ache in his heart. Stepping out of that stuffy classroom buzzing with energy and getting some fresh air for a few minutes is exactly what he needs right now.
Except the air isn't all that fresh. It's laced with smoke, something Vince can sense from a mile away. He's not unfamiliar with the smell—in fact, he even brought outside a pack of his own cigarettes, ready to use them to blow off some steam. Is there already someone smoking out here?
He steps forward, the grass beneath him shifting to hold his weight. When he gets closer, he tilts his head, recognizing their uniform. A Pomefiore student. And a young one, at that—a first year like him, maybe? Vince doesn't see many first years smoking like he does. This is new. And very welcome.
Vince comes closer, ready to join the other boy on the bench if he'd allow it, but he freezes when he whips his head around. He hadn't thought that he would scare the poor Pomefiore so badly.
"Ah... didn' mean t' startle ya', man. M' here for the same reason you are, if 'm bein' frank."
He takes out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, jostling them while his other hand moves to rub the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture.
"Do ya' mind if I sit next t' ya'? M' not a tattletale or anythin', I swear."
Hello, @preservedfrostbite!! I've been lurking around your blog for a little bit ever since @winterwhxspers told me about the roleplay that you're doing with your vampire OC, and I thought that you were super super cool!! I hope you don't mind me starting this roleplay with you, and, if you're up for it, I'd really like to get to know you more and be roleplay friends!!
Greyson looks at Vince for a moment, his black almost soulless eyes seeming to pierce through Vince's very being, then he pats the spot beside him invitingly.
“You're in my class, aren't you? T'be honest, I didn't think anyone else would come out to escape from Trein's bullshit.” Grey mumbles around his cigarette, digging in his pockets for a moment and pulling out a lighter that he offers to Vince. They can just use magic, sure, but there was something nostalgic about using an ordinary lighter.
Well, as ordinary as a custom-made lighter could get. The mirror and forest motifs, alongside Greyson's name scrawled in cursive, is a dead giveaway that he has money or at least comes from it.
“You scared the shit out of me, coming up behind me like that. I thought it was Vil or Rook or Trein coming to rip me a new one.”
"Ah—that's right, ain't it? You n' I are in the same class. Well, M' sorry for scarin' ya' like that either way. Just wanted t' have a friendly smoke—I don' see many first-years willin' t' do that with me."
Vince takes his seat a comfortable distance away from Greyson, leaning his arm against the side of the bench. He takes one of his cigarettes out, murmuring a small "thank you" when the other boy hands him the lighter.
"Unless ya' ain't willin', which in that case, I'd be makin' a fool outta myself right now. M' pretty experienced in that... locale."
Vince turns the lighter over in his hands, reading the word engraved off to the side.
"Doesn't look like any regular lighter I've seen. N' those cigarettes, too—look like they come from 'n expensive brand, why don't they. D' ya' think they feel any different to smoke, at the end?"
He chuckles, lighting up his cigarette and handing the lighter back. He takes a puff, giving the smoke a minute to properly mix with he air before he asks another question.
"Care to tell me who Greyson is?"
“That'd be me. Greyson Jude, but people usually just call me Grey.”
“There's probably not much of a difference, but you can try one of mine if you'd like.” He offers, taking the lighter back and pocketing it before blowing smoke out into the air.
“I don't mind hanging out with someone while I smoke, it's just that there aren't many first years willing to. And what about you, hm? I don't think I remember Trein calling your name out during attendance.”
"I see. Grey it is, then. Nice t' meetcha, Grey."
Vince takes the offered cigarette gingerly, lighting it with the other cigarette he has on hand.
"Feel like 'm in the presence 'f riches, I do. Like 'm some poor weasel on the side 'f the road that's gettin' a whiff of the way the wealthy do it. Reckon 'm feelin' right?"
He smiles at his analogy, taking a whiff from this cigarette.
"Flows a little better, that's for sure. But at the end 'f the day, the relief is all the same. Thanks for letting' me try em' out, though."
Vince tilts his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles wistfully. It's not a surprise to him that this Greyson stranger didn't catch his name right off the bat—it's near-missable, unless you're actually looking out for it. Vince won't admit it out loud, but the other boy does look like the type to fully disregard anyone who won't give him something.
Maybe this exchange is different. Or maybe he's the victim.
"Name's Vicente Cabro, but everyone calls me Vince. Don't blame ya' for not recognizing it right off the bat. A pretty ordinary name, that one."
Vince offers his own cigarette box to him, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
"Any chance you wanna take a look at life over on the poor side? Give 'ya some humility, won't it."
“Eh, why the hell not?” It was only fair, right? Truthfully he does feel bad for not catching the other boy's name, but it was only because he's running on three hours of sleep and an iced coffee.
“Vince, hm? I wouldn't call it ordinary, if anything I think Greyson is more common, but it's a pleasure to meet you as well.” He hums with consideration after getting a whiff of the other's cig.
“There's definitely a difference, but like you said before: they bring the same kind of relief.”
Vince nods, stretching out his arm on the bench's back. His fingers brush Greyson's blazer, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Right they do," he says simply, nodding as he brings the fancy cigarette up to his lips again. He looks back at the other boy, noticing the details in his uniform: the beret-like hat on his head, the accent necklaces, the earrings that are something new compared to what students at Night Raven College usually wear. It's cute, he thinks.
"I like what y' did with the outfit, by the way. Added 'ur own personal touch. That's nice."
He tips his cigarette over the bench, dusting some of the charcoal-dark particles off with his finger.
"What brings y' here, Grey? Something deep? R' just takin' a rest?"
“Thanks. I just thought it might be a nice way to make myself stand out a bit. Wearing uniforms takes away some of that self-expression.” Grey fidgets with one of the dangly earrings he has, one that's shaped like an arrowhead on a chain.
“It's just a certain smell in Trein's room that gives me a migraine, I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. And plus, I haven't had a smoke today until now. I just needed a break. You too, I'm guessing?”
"More 'r less."
Vince smiles faintly, but his eyes don't look like they're present in the conversation.
"'S hard for me to stay away from m' family for so long. I've been w' them for ages. I jus' got particularly overwhelmed today."
He watches Grey fidget with the earring, noticing that he might be uncomfortable. He hesitates before speaking his next words, voice careful.
"You wanna tell me how you got to this school? This college? Only if you wanna, of course."
He's praying to the sevens that Grey isn't uncomfortable with him. He's missed domestic stuff like this.
“To settle down, mostly. My mother travels for work and I never had the time to make real friends, plus I had several behavioral issues that often got me in trouble. I love my mother, I truly do, but sometimes it feels like she cares more about her job than me.” Greyson leans a bit into Vince, half-resting against the other boy's shoulder and throwing any worry of him being uncomfortable out of a metaphorical window.
“I'm honestly not all too sure what I want to do with my life. I believe my mother is some sort of... travel agent? I don't know. Last I checked, she was in Briar Valley and heading to the Coral Sea.”
Vince watches as Greyson leans in, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting this from the other boy, but, like everything, it's welcome with open arms.
Vince is a touchy person, and not having affection for months on end can make a touchy person go crazy. He used to get satiated easily, getting in a cuddle pile with his parents and siblings and watching a movie and play-fighting with them and sticking by their side. But now, this—barely a graze, an unconscious movement—is all the touch he can get anymore. It drives Vince mad, but he doesn't want to make a move and scare the poor boy. He... looses track of his limits sometimes, especially with unfamiliar things (or people).
"I understan' the feeling," Vince nods. "My parents used t' do the same thing, but t' a... more brash extent. But now I got brought into a lovin' family, n' I would never change 'em for anythin' else. Thing's get better, Grey. You can hold me t' it."
Vince looks down at his free palm, opening and closing it a few times. He pretends to do a cool magic spell, whacking it round and round as if he's doing something really powerful.
"Don' even have my UM yet. I wish, though."
His palm drops back to his lap.
"You have 'ur UM yet, Grey? Haven' seen one 'n action yet, so maybe 'd get 'ta know a thing r' two with 'urs."
“...I have mine, but it's not exactly... It's not something I'd want to use on a friend. It's invasive, I only ever use it if I really need to.” Greyson never received much affection during his childhood, and yet Vince.. This boy, this stranger he's just met.. Why was it so easy to tell him everything? It was almost baffling.
“I'm glad you have a better family, at the very least. It must be nice, having siblings. As far as I know, my closest relative is my grandmother, and I'm quite sick of hearing her preach about gender comformity.”
He laughs, but it's a little bitter. The Pomefiore student hides his wistful look behind another drag of his cigarette, which was already becoming a stub from use over time.
“I don't really think seeing people's deepest fears is someone I'd want to be known for, but it's not something I can really keep quiet for long.”
"Gender conformity? 'R ya' genderqueer, perchance? R' is it jus' because ya' dress a little feminin'?"
Vince takes a drag with him, the smoke from the two cigarettes hesitating before twisting and blending into each other. It's almost poetic.
"I don' care 'bout gender nonsense, don' get me wrong. I jus' wanna know what t' refer t' you by. Better t' tell me sooner than later, 'cause then I keep slippin' up."
Vince decides to be a little daring and press against Greyson's shoulder. Now, instead of a light graze, they're pressing into each other, however softly.
"Y' can see people's deepest fears? My, that's something', ain't it? Emotional UM's have alway's been m' preference compared t' physical ones. If y' eva' go haywire n' decide t' use it on me, I think I'd trust ya' w' the result. Ya' hear?"
“I might be genderqueer? Honestly, I have no clue. I just like to dress cute. And if cute means being a bit effeminate, then I guess that's what I'm rocking with. I do use masculine pronouns, maybe they/them too? I haven't really questioned it much. I just like what I like.” Grey shrugs, smile a little brighter now. His head is almost entirely resting on Vince's shoulder now. He always gets sleepy when he smokes, like it was some kind of curse for having a nicotine addiction.
“So that's your preference.. Well, your trust isn't misplaced, at the very least. Unless you decide to throw me in a fountain or something. I'm a little bit petty like that.”
"Well, you'll be happy t' kno' that I won't be throwin' anybody in any fountains anytime soon. That, you can count 'n"
Vince chuckles, letting Grey rest on his shoulder all he wants. He's itching to get closer, longing to get the affection he heeds. But he's able to controls himself and take another puff instead.
"How 'bout I use they/them on you from now on? So y' can see when one y' like better?"
Don't get ahead of 'urself, Vince. He don't mean anythin' by this. Stay calm.
"N' for me, you can use sum' usual he/him, by the way. To let 'ya know."
His fingers curl tighter around the cigarette.
“Mkay. I think I like that, using both. He and they. Feels right.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette, then snuffs it out and puts it back in the box so he's not littering.
“Glad to know that I won't be expecting any surprise baths from you, at least.”
"He n' they it is."
A comfortable silence wraps around the two boys. Or, comfortable for Greyson, at least—Vince is internally panicking, scrambling to find something else to talk about. He's usually good at this. Why can't he be good at this right now?
"Ya' told me a bit 'bout your home life, so 'll tell you 'bout mine 'n return," he blurts a little faster than usual. A weak conversation starter in the sense that it's obvious, but a conversation starter nonetheless.
"'M adopted. Grew up young n' a shit family, not very important. Got adopted by m' momma n' my mom n' my papa n' my dad when I was twelve. Ya' heard right: four. 'S a polycule, n' they adopted four children n' had five t' go with 'em. M' the seventh r' eighth, pretty sure."
Vince chuckles, ruffling Greyson's hair lightly as a thought occurs to him.
"If ya' ever wanna break from break from ur' momma, I'd be glad t' share one of mine. Y' can come over to my house, so long as y' don' mind doin' dirty work. 'Cause we live at a farm."
His beret is displaced by the ruffling, and he gives Vince a pout as he fixes it back into place. He looks contemplative for a moment, his hand going back up to fidget with that same earring, then hums. Not a response, but a consideration.
“I'm not one to shy away from dirty work, but I'll warn you now that I burn like dry grass in a heatwave.” It's a kind offer, one that he's never been given before. Usually people were too wary of him to get close.
“I think it'd be nice, staying in such a full house. I've never experienced what having siblings is like.”
"Ah, yes. Think it'll be real bondin' if we shovel cow manure t'gether!"
Vince laughs out loud, the worry from being away from his siblings for long slowly fading away. This boy—this sweet, quiet boy, really had an effect on Vince. Greyson was able to bring Vince back to normal even while they're talking about family.
A kind person, indeed. Vince would have to try his hardest to befriend Greyson.
"Reckon you'll have fun, though. 'll put you with sum' easier jobs, n' at the end, we could go do something' fun. Moms n' dads won't let you r' me leave without a fight."
A blush creeps up Vince's cheeks. There it is. He's lost his limits, and is inviting practically a stranger over to his house. What's up with me?! I can't be so bold alluva sudden!
"'Course, if 'ya want to, that is. N' even then, I'd like to get t' know 'ya sum' more."
“I'd have to convince Mother. But I would like that, even if just to get away from the Queendom for a while.” If one were to look close enough, a pink flush on the tips of Greyson's ears could be seen.
Easy to fluster under all the so-called aloofness. No one ever tries to approach them, and Vince might just be the first.
“You're sweet. Makes me unable to function properly. No one is ever this nice to me.”
Vince laughs heartily again, an amused glint in his eye. Greyson is oddly easy to read. When Vince first approached, he thought that Greyson would be one of the difficult, poker-face types. Turns out that he's just a bit shy.
"N' why would that be? You're adorable! Nevr' get people, really. Always judgin' for no reason."
Vince slaps Greyson's shoulder a few times, in a teasing, playful manner. He's grinning from ear to ear, happy that Greyson is happy and also so close to him.
"Thank's for the compliment, tho'. Most uvda kids here been screamin' 'm' stoic n' with a fragile ego' everywhere I look. Appreciate someone who can admit stuff jus' like that. "
Definitely shy, but definitely bold in his own ways. He can't seem to take gratitude properly, instead fidgeting with the hem of Vince's sleeve. He runs a finger up the length of the other boy's arm and then gives him a small smile.
“I'm adorable, huh? I think that might be a new word used to describe me. You're easy on the eyes too, Vince.”
Obvious? Yes. But Mother always said to go after the things he wants before they escape him.
And well...
Vince's eyebrows raises his eyebrows, scoffing.
"'Easy n' the eyes?' I've been called more uva hunk in my lifetime. But thank 'ya, Grey."
He looks down, watching Greyson's finger as it trails up his metal arm. He extends his fingers, showing the arm off a little bit.
"Does it look odd to 'ya, Grey? 'S a prosthetic arm, if 'ya couldn't tell. Got this while I was fulla bullshit. Still full bullshit now, but I can control myself. 'Nough."
Vince grabs one of his poor cigarettes, the newer one that Greyson gave him kicked to the curb long ago. He twists his finger, and a soft flame bursts from the tip of it, which he uses to heat up the front of the cigarette.
"Neat, ain't it? Put it there myself. 'M a bit of a metalworker, so t' speak. If 'ya ever need sumthin' metal done, don't be shy."
The way Greyson's pupils dilate at the sight of the flame is captivating, like gaining the trust of a reclusive creature enough for them to eat from your palm.
“...Yourself, huh? It suits you, makes you all the more charming, non?” He doesn't know why he slips into a different language, maybe it's from being in such proximity to Rook, or maybe his childhood lessons finally have reason to be used, but there are just some words that English doesn't contain to describe this.
“Une œuvre d'art. A work of art. Your arm, that is. Though that's not to say that you aren't also a work of art- Aïe, je suis en train de me creuser ma propre tombe.”
Grey goes silent, praying to the Seven to give him strength, and wills the warmth on his cheeks to retreat.
“What I mean to say is, your talent, precision, and dedication are works of art.”
Real smooth, Jude.
"Oh, 'd say that m' arm's a real piece of art, too. The rest 'f me, not so much. 'd like ta' say 'm a... more uva statue, maybe. R' someone on an emblem. R' on a coin."
Vince waves his hands around, being all showy in an exaggerated way to try and get this guy to laugh. He's not all that egoistical, so it's obvious that what he's saying is all just a joke. When Grey gives him a funny look, Vince can't help but burst into laughter all over again, slapping Grey on the back hard. Not enough to make a dent, but enough to make that cute pouting face again.
When Grey starts speaking French, though, Vince blanks, freezing in place.
"...Ah? What's up with the French? I don' speak a lick 'f French, 'll have 'ya know. Coulda' call'd me a slur, 'nd I'd have no clue!"
Vince snorts, grinning from ear to ear. It's true—he doesn't know not one bit of any other language besides the one he was born saying. The only French words he does know would be stuff like "oui oui" and "bonjour," and even then he would butcher them horribly (wei wei and bonejauhr).
"Care t' translate, 'r should I stay not knowin'? Could do that too, long as you pinky promise that ya' won't spew no shit 'bout me behind m' back."
“I said I was digging myself a grave. I'm not the best with words.” Grey smiles sheepishly, his earlier pout from when Vince slapped him on the back.
“You'd be able to tell if I was cussing you out in French, I promise.” His fingers twitch when he says that, like he's considering reaching up and playing with his earring again. It calmed him when he was embarrassed, though he's got not a clue why that's so.
“R’ ya’ sure ‘bout that? M’ not kiddin’ ‘round when I tell ‘ya that I don’t know nuthin’ ‘f French.”
Vince noticed Grey almost going to fiddle with his earring again, and decides to take a bold move and place his mechanical hand gently on top of Grey’s. He chuckles at the other boy’s sheepishness, winking at him as he speaks.
“Think ‘ur good with words, tho’. Ain’t have nobody call me a work ‘f art in this lifetime. N’ I don’t think nobody’ll ever tell me it like you did.”
So much care around the words. So much tenderness, even though they’re technically not even friends yet. Vince wonders why that is, but drops it after a few seconds of pondering. It’s probably just out of formality.
“How ‘bout you tell me ‘bout a curse word, so I can seem real cool when I cuss ‘em out usin’ sum French? Think ‘ll look badass?”
Greyson audibly squeaks when he feels Vince place a hand over his, face turning bright red once again. Well fuck.
“I think you'd only be impressive if you knew more than just a few curse words, but alright. Though in my opinion, the best insults are the ones you don't need to use swears.”
Vince laughs out loud at the squeak, but he makes sure that Greyson’s actually comfortable with what he’s doing. His eyes rake over Greyson’s form, deciding to keep his hand there and not push any further to see what else the other boy will do. For a minute, Vince wishes that he could get Grey’s flushed face on camera…
“Mmm… We’ll, if ‘ya think that way, then how ‘bout ya’ give me a real authentic French insult? One that’ll get someone’s boots shakin’, so I can tell it to ‘ur haters n’ have ‘em runnin’ for their lives?”
He snickers at the thought, but he’s not really kidding. If anyone was fucking around with Greyson, Vince would be very sure to give them a piece of his mind. It’s what friends do, of course.
Greyson had only been surprised, he truly didn't mind. He could also feel the way Vince's eyes traveled over him, almost shivering.
“Avoir le QI d’une huître. It means that to have the IQ of an oyster. One of my favorites, personally.” Grey smiles, a bright little thing that makes the world feel just a little bit brighter.
“There's also 'Con comme une valise sans poignée.' It means 'as stupid as a suitcase without a handle.'”
"A suitcase without no handle 's pretty stupid!"
Vince laughs, patting Grey on the back for the good insults. He tries to say the insult in French—"cone conmeh uhn valaisw sans po-ih-knee?"—but butchers it terribly and has to watch as Grey laughs in his face.
"Wha—hey! M' pronunciation ain't tha' bad! V' never dun this befor'!"
He's not offended by it, though. Vince laughs along with Grey, but pauses when he catches sight of that pretty smile. My, Sevens...
"Ya'know, after seein' it n' person, m' thinkin' you should smile a little more. Suits 'ya. Brings out yer eyes."
He takes out his phone, opening the camera app.
"Cm'ere. Lemme show ya'."
He puts them two into the frame, grinning wide.
“Your French isn't too bad for a beginner.” Greyson praises, only to blink in surprise when Vince takes out his phone.
He flushes at the compliment to his smile, but sheepishly looks towards the camera while placing a hand on Vince's shoulder.
For a moment, he looks a little hesitant to smile, but when he does it's just as sweet as the one he gave to Vince moments before.
"There 'ya go! D' ya see tha' cute thin'?"
Vince shows Greyson the photo, zooming into his face. Whether or not Greyson sees anything different in himself, it's clear that Vince sees a lot in him.
"'Dorable! Ya'd really be a hot shot, if ya did tha' 'round more people. Good thin' that ya' ain't, 'cause I kinda wanna keep tha' perfect smile all to m'self."
Vince sends the photo to his family group chat before putting the phone into his pocket. The action rides his pants down just a tad, but what's really curious is the white fur peeking underneath. He doesn't seem to realize this, nor the implications of what he just said.
"Do 'ya wanna pictura 'f me, too? 'Could pose all pretty fo' ya. Well—ima try m' best, that's fo' sure."
Greyson visible short circuits, face steadily turning as red as Riddle's hair. His heart is racing for reasons he can't identify properly, with the source of this reaction all coming from the boy seated next to him.
“I-” His throat feels dry. Why does it feel dry?
“You wouldn't have to pose, you're pretty as is.” He mutters, too flustered to notice the fur as he takes out his own phone cups Vince's face with his free hand.
It seems like he's perfectly fine with taking pictures with other people as long as he's not the main subject of it. He stares at the photo for a very long time, then pockets his phone after sending it to someone.
Who?
Who knows. There wasn't a contact name.
:)
Vince sticks out his tongue in an attempt to look silly, cheeks puffed out in a wide smile. When he's allowed to move again, he tries to look over, but Greyson doesn't let him since he doesn't want the other boy to see who he's sending it to.
"Wha—hey! Whos' that, eh? Ya' beter not be sendin' stuf t' sum rando who'll mock me fo' tha' arm o' mine!"
Vince pouts after realizing that he's really not going to be allowed to see who he's texting, but then his eyes light up when an idea crosses his mind.
"Ah! Didya want my magicam n' that number o' mine, Grey? M' happy t' give it t'ya! I post sum stuff n' there, f' ya'd like t' take a look!"
He looks excited to share it. Greyson can't say no to those puppy eyes.
“Simply a friend of mine. I keep forgetting to save her contact.” Either way, he nods when Greyson asks if he could share his socials.
“Oui, I want to keep in touch with you. It's too easy to lose people in this school.”
"Sure! Jus' type in 'ere 'V1nce.xz', n' it'll probably pop up!"
That's what Greyson starts with, typing the handle into magicam to find the account. When he clicks on the profile picture of a cat hiding in the bushes of a forest, he can already spot a picture from Vince at the gym peeking out from under his bio.
"I could type ma numba for ya, if ya'd like! Y' could put whateva profile picture ya' wanna on there! N' y' don' mind me taggin 'ya n' stuff, d'ya?"
Vince tilts his head, clearly oblivious to the thoughts running through Greyson's mind.
Greyson follows the account, immediately liking the most recent post.
“I don't post much on my account, aside from things I find while skipping. But I don't mind if you tag me. I'll put in your phone number too, just because.”
"Sure! Ima tag 'ya in a whole buncha stuff now, just 'cause 'ya said yes. Just for 'ya t' keep n' eye out."
Vince takes Greyson's phone, inputting the number and putting his name as "VINCE!!". He then sends a test text to himself (labeled as Testing!! Testing!! 123!) and then checks his own phone (responding with It worked!!)
"It worked!" Vince exclaims out loud, looking up from his phone.
"'ll be textin' ya 24/7, too. Any sorta pref as ta' what ya' want ur profile pic n' ur name ta' be?"
Vince hands Greyson the phone for him to input it himself.
“No preference. Though you can't go texting me at two in the morning now, or Vil will have my head for disturbing my roommates.” Grey teases as he inputs his phone number into Vince's phone (after double-checking it).
All he sent?
<3
"Awe, r' ya' serious 'bout that? two AM is prime time fo' textin' n' chattin'!"
He check his prone for the test text message, lighting up when he sees the heart.
"Tha's such a cute heart! 'Ur softer than I thought! D'ya text everyon' a heart, r' am I a special lil' fella?"
Vince chuckles, texting back a small emoticon: (*U*). He stares at his phone more, waiting for a new text to pop up from Greyson. He's liking this silent game. He thinks it's cute.
“It was the first thing I thought of...”
He replies to the emoticon with one of his one: (*´ω｀*)
“I don't text a lot, really. I forgot how much I liked emoticons.”
"Gahdayum, did 'ya make that? Tha's very creative, 'f I do say so m'self!"
Greyson fiddles with the keyboard, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tries to make one by himself. Greyson tries to speak, but Vince won't let him until he's conjured up the perfect kaomoji to use.
"Eh... ahah! 'Think I got it!"
He sends the one he made along with a few variations, grinning like a proud father when he finishes and sits back.
\ (// `u` //) /
\ (// `_` //) /
\ (// `0` //) /
\ (// `^` //) /
“Oh those are so cute. You're good at making kaomojis.” Greyson hearts all of the kaomojis Vince made, though the emoji he uses isn't a heart but rather a spiderweb...
Vince lets out a smug "hmph!" and tilts his chin up, proud. He loves to show off hone it comes to the people that he likes, and he loves even more to get praise for it.
"Thank 'ya! Ya can use 'em if ya... huh?"
Vince looks down at his phone, noticing that Greyson hearted all of the kaomojis with spiderwebs. He tilts his head, squinting to make sure that he was seeing right.
"'S thatta spiderweb?"
Vince looks back up, eyes filled with wonder.
"Wha' kinda reaction 's tha'? Means tha' ma lil' 'emojis r' old r' sumthin?"
“It's just something I do. I got bored of using normal hearts so I chose the spiderweb to be my personal version of a heart emoji. It works the same, I just prefer mine.” Admittedly, Greyson was a bit embarrassed about it. He chose it when he was younger, and it always just kind of stuck.
"N' folks still call 'ya intimidatin'? Ha!"
Vince laughs, abandoning his phone to reach out and pinch Greyson's cheeks. His touch is soft, but his hands are rough. Probably from days of working at the farm.
"What a cutie! Wouldda never thoughtta doin' somethin' so creative! How cute!"
Vince moves back, picking up his phone again. He taps his chin, scrolling through emojis until his eyes light up. He then proceeds to like all of Greyson's texts, but instead of a heart, it's a leaf.
"Whaddya think 'f that? Neat, eh? I take it from ya'!"
“I can be intimidating when I want to be...” It's a flimsy excuse, but not a lie. He's ruined people's lives before.
“Awh that's cute. A leaf suits you.”
His cheeks are sore from Vince's pinching, even a bit red, but that's more from being called cute rather than the pinching.
"Uhuh. Sure 'ya can. 'S a-okay if ur a lil shy, ya'know."
Vince chuckles, now pressing into Greyson fully. He's open for a hug, he very much wants a hug, but he also doesn't want to push Greyson.
"Did'ja really wanna come ofer ta' ma' farm? R' wassat all sum joke?"
He grins, placing his head on Greyson's shoulder.
"Would love it 'f ya came. But we only jus' met."
His eyes light up as a new idea dawns on him.
"Whaddya say ya ask me a few questions, eh? N' I do the same ta ya! How about 'ya start?"
Vince looks at Greyson expectantly, giving him no room to conplain.
Greyson huffs with mock offense and lets his head fall onto Vince's shoulder.
“I don't joke lightly about wanting to escape my mother. I'd love to visit.” He admits, already itching for another cigarette. He doesn't wait long before he's grabbing another from his box and lighting it.
“Me first? Okay. Who's your favorite Housewarden besides your own?”
"Fave housewarden? Ahh... Well, a do like Kalim a bunch! He's such a sweetie. Jamil's a lil more iffy ta' me."
Vince presses his cheek against Greyson's head. He thinks about what question he could ask for a few seconds, taking out another cigarette of his own and asking the question when he the smoke in his mouth caught with the air.
"Aha! Em... wha's tha' guilty preasure of yours? Hope 'm sayin' it right. Neva asked sumone before."
“Anything with white chocolate.” Greyson replies, then takes a drag from it. The taste lingers, like it usually does.
“Right back at you: what's your guilty pleasure?”
"Me? Ah... ah'd say... well."
Vince snorts, getting a little shy now. He usually doesn't reveal things like this right off the bat, but... oh, hell. Vince trusts Grey enough for this.
"Ya might find it stupid, but I do like ta' dance. Think I look like tha' dancin' type, Burt not fo' tha type dancing tha' I do. 'Cause I do pole dancin'."
He nudges Greyson playfully, winking.
"White chocolate's all? C'mon, Grey— ya ain't got nuthin more 'guilty' than tha'? Won't tell a soul, ya' know."
“Well I don't think chain smoking three packs a week is a guilty pleasure if I'm not guilty about it. I guess I really don't have anything.” Greyson tries not to think about the math of that.
He instead focuses on the part Vince said about pole-dancing, then immediately cuts that line of thought when it treads into 'i wouldn't mind watching him poledance' territory.
Vince's smile wavers a little. Three packs a week? Vince may smoke, but not three packs a week. He doesn't mention it yet, but he knows that at some point he's going to have to do something about it. Smoking that much at Greyson's age gets him nervous.
"Well, m' gonna need a lil more from ya. How 'bout... a secret? Here— 'll give ya mine first. Fair 'change."
Vince taps his chin, thinking about a good secret to give him.
"Ah. 've gotta good 'un. N' if ya come to da farm, ur gonna see 'em anyway."
Vince chuckles nervously, rolling his pant legs up to reveal white fur. His face turns a little redder as he speaks.
"Goat legs."
“Huh. Neat.” Greyson genuinely didn't care if Vince had goat legs, someone in Pomefiore was literally covered in scales because of a faulty transformation potion. And what was the point of being in a magical school if you didn't meet some strange people?
“A secret of mine? Hm...” Greyson takes another drag of his cigarette while he thinks, searching for anything that he might categorize as a secret.
Oh.
Well. There's that, of course.
But...
No, too soon.
“Not so much as a secret but it's something I'm ashamed of. I used to run with a pretty bad group in middle school and it got me sent to a juvenile detention center more than once.”
"Well, I'll be! Ya ain't so innocent as I thought, eh?" Vince laughed. He didn't look too fazed. He has met more than a few people who had done bad things in their lives and were trying to get better. He suspected that Greyson was the same way.
He could only hope, anyway.
"N' I suspect 'ur gettin' better, no? 'Cause 'ur real nice n' amazin'! M' enjoying' ma time wit ya!"
He winks, pulling down his pant leg. He doesn't feel so ashamed about his legs anymore. Not with the way Greyson reacted to them. He's glad that the other boy didn't find them weird like most do.
"How 'bout ya ask me sumthin' crazy now? Don' want ya ta think tha' I get all tha privilege in askin' personal stuff."
“Hm. What's the worse thing you've done to someone? If you can't think of anything, then what do you think is the worst?” Greyson didn't like how much faith Vince had in him. Would he still think the same after seeing the case files?
The sight of her still haunts his nightmares, he has a feeling that she'll never forgive him even when he's dead.
"Me? Ah... well, wouldn't call m'self a very bad guy. Most ah'd say is driven' summon ta madness with da way I get all competitive sumtimes," Vince chuckles. Him and his family aren't really ones to harm anybody; they've all been called sweethearts at least once in their lives. Except two people of the bunch, but even then they're trying to change.
A satanist and a cannibalist. An unhealthy duo.
"N' wha 'bout you? R' should I ask a differen' quest'n?"
Vince takes another smoke, looking at Greyson inquisitively. Maybe he did something bad in the juvenile detention of his. He wouldn't very much mind if it's in the past.
“I did something that hurt one of my friends and I still feel horrible about it. It was my idea, and I didn't think anyone would get hurt.” Blood. So much blood. He didn't know a person had that much in them.
Is it better or worse that he's glad it was her and not anyone else?
He looks one minute away from just shoving his cigarette into his mouth and eating it.
“Ah, don't tell anyone, but I'm still supposed to be serving time.”
Vince almost judges, but then he stops and rethinks. Judging? Really? In his predicament? No.
"I won' tell. An' if ya don' wanna tell what happen' tha' day either, tha's a-okay. But jus' kno' tha you n' I, well, we're in tha same situation. So if 'ya ever wanna tell me 'bout tha, I could tell ya bout my siblings Marcy n Ophelia."
He smiles, trying to lighten the mood.
"How 'bout we move to sumthin a lil lighter? Like, eh... ah—HAH! Like crushes! Ya have a crush? R' do ya kno' bout any drama round here?"
“I don't have a crush on anyone, but for drama? I hear that there's a student in Diasomnia who is the reason for all of the strange white flowers popping up around campus.”
"Eh? Do ya know who tha student is? R do I gotta pay a fee ta kno'?"
Vince giggles, ruffling Greyson's hair as an excuse to get to touch him more. Vince had never really had a crush before, more prone to feeling familial things than anything else. But now, with this sweet, broken boy...
He didn't want to get too into it.
"I'm funny, ain't I? Say m' funny, R' I'll get Riddle ta chop ur head off," he teases.
“Well you're funnier than everyone in Pomefiore, I'll give you that. I don't know who the student is, I've just seen him around one of the third years. Uh, red hair, green eyes, really likes roses. I think his name is Briar. They're.. kind of weird.”
"Weird how?" Vince asks, tilting his head.
"'Cause ah'd say tha' we're weird, too. Is it like tha'? R' sumthin' different?"
He tilts his head, reaching out and snatching another fancy cigarette from Greyson. He chuckles, lighting the front with his mechanical finger like he had shown before. He then opens a hidden pocket in his arm, taking out two chocolate bites.
"Want? It ain't white. N' I've got otha stuff, 'f ya want. Jus' take a peek in ther'."
“Nah, I'll pass. I'm not really craving anything sweet right now.” Greyson tries to think of a more appropriate word for the two he's describing.
“Well the Diasomnia student doesn't... Well to put it plainly, he looks like he should be dead. One time I think I saw him remove his entire arm. For my upperclassman... I don't know. Something about his rose garden feels weird.”
Well, this didn't really go the direction he wanted it to, did it? He tried to lighten the mood, and now it's become even darker. He feels like an idiot.
"Tha's pretty wild. Neva knew of sumone who could do tha before."
Vince chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He hopes that Greyson will ask him a question, because he doesn't think that asking him so many things at a time is very appropriate. What else can he comment on? Think, think...
“Sorry, I'm bad at keeping things light. Uhm... What's your favorite cafe? Maybe we can go there sometime, my treat.” Greyson could really go for an iced caramel macchiato, especially with the weather warming up.
"Favorite cafe? Ta be hones', I don' usually go. How 'bout ya tell me urs? R we could even go there', if we're able ta."
After a second, he adds quickly:
"Only if ya wanna! 'S of course ur decisi'n! I don' mean ta be so forward 'bout these things. M' sorry."
Vince rubs his hand over his arm a few times. He hopes that Greyson isn't getting weirded out because of how forward he keeps being. But then again, going right about now to a cafe sounds like a good idea... to drink a smoothie from the same straw like 1980s rom-coms...
Sevens, what is he thinking?!
“There's this one in town I really like. They have these amazing pastries made with actual vanilla filling in them.” Grey's face practically lights up as he describes them, but uh... (Un)fortunately for Vince, Greyson doesn't seem to notice just how forward Vince is being.
Oof.
Greyson though, they were just happy to have a friend.
"Would ya maybe wanna go ther' right 'bout now? Would love ta try un!"
Vince smiles, already gathering his things to leave. If Vince knew Greyson even a little, he could already tell that someone like him would know the best way to sneak out of school. He's done it a few times himself, but maybe learning from a true expert would prove him well. Most of the times that he's done it, he's gone straight to detention.
"Promise tha' I won' let us get caught," he winks.
“Sure, why not. I've got my wallet on me anyway.” Greyson snuffs out his cigarette and tucks it back into the box, then stands up to stretch. His back cracks audibly in several different places, and they sigh while slumping just a tad.
“You promise? Well, then don't go breaking it. I don't like people who break promises.” It's lighthearted, paired with a smile, but Greyson knows just how hypocritical he was being by saying that.
"Ima be payin', thank ya very much. 've got more money than I need," Vince huffs, standing up with Greyson. He leads the way to the area that would take them out of the school grounds, smiling at the teasing quip.
"Don' plan on it, a' least—ain't mean tha' it might happen. Seein' tha' ya got outta tha' prison, I'm thinkin' tha you've got a lotta practice in this, so we should be fine."
He climbs onto the top fence, climbing it and lending Greyson a hand when he reaches the top.
"Ur scrawny, but I believe in 'ya!"
Scrawny? A rare bit of competitiveness blooms in Greyson as he grasps the fence and heaves himself over it with ease.
“Scrawny, eh?” He parrots, a grin on his face.
"Wha—EY! Ya ain't supposed ta do tha'!" Vince huffs, but he's laughing. He jumps a mediocre distance from the fence to the floor, turning back to Greyson and holding out his arms.
"'ll catch ya', ya devious princess!" He exclaims, laughing out loud. He hasn't had this much fun without his siblings for a while now.
"N' hurry, 'else the police 's gonna catch 'ya! Tha' of which bein' Vil 'n Rook!"
A ploy: mention his worst nightmares to make him pressured into making his decision faster.
Greyson huffs, then lets go of the fence with full trust that Vince will actually catch him. He's never escaped campus before, he'll certainly have to hell to pay later, but for now he'll enjoy this.
Vince laughs loudly, catching Greyson and twirling him around. He keeps one hand under the other boy and one hand on his back, making sure that Greyson is completely safe in his arms.
"Wha' Didya think 'f tha? M' pretty strong, eh?"
He wasn't struggling holding Greyson, that's for sure. Vince beams, walking a few steps forward.
"Might keep ya in ma arms 'til we get there. Whaddya think, eh?" he jokes, winking.
“Oh you are pretty strong. Not even a hint of a struggle, what luck I have, hmmm?” Greyson makes no indication of wanting to be put down, but he will make a point to stand on his own if Vince really wanted to put him back on the ground.
“What did you call me, 'Princess'? I guess that would make you my knight in shining armor.”
"Tha's right!" He grins, hoisting him up further. Sure enough, he starts walking away from the school with Greyson still in his arms. He talks to him while walking with Greyson attached to his hip.
"Tha's right—m' tha knight n shinin' armor. N knights n' shinin' armor are supposta be da love interest in da story, yaknow."
It's supposed to be just a tease, but something in Vince's voice sets it up to be more than that.
"R' not. I was neva good at readin'. Maybe m' wrong."
“If it's you? Then I wouldn't mind a romance.” Does Greyson elaborate? Nope. He's too busy internally fawning over the fact that he's being carried like he weights absolutely nothing.
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
[He stares at Nick, surprised clearly at the quick whirl of movements. Kit will neither confirm nor deny whether seeing Nick on one knee apologizing like so made him slightly blush. He shook his head, dropping to one knee too and gently placing a hand on Nick’s.]
“Don’t apologize, Kitty… I ain’t mad, this isn’t your fault.”
“I still broke it.” Nicholas lets go of Kit's hand to hug them again, definitely not willing to let go of his only friend.
“You're my only friend. If I can't keep a simple promise like promising to not leave because I let myself get transported to the Victorian era, then what kind of friend am I.”
[Kit is a little bit disoriented with all the movement directed towards him so quickly, awkwardly hugging Nick back.]
“I-I guess but this isn’t just something that happens everyday, it was just bad luck so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Nicholas looks up at Kit with the biggest, saddest pout ever. Poor guy is genuinely distraught.
He looks just like a kicked kitten, truly fitting the nickname Kit gave him.
[Kit sighs and cups his friend’s face, expression changing and now speaking sternly.]
“Nicholas. Stop blaming yourself for this. It is not your fault, okay.”
“I myself told you it was okay. Okay?”
[He lets go and runs a hand through his hair.]
“Alright now, Kitty? You’re really fitting your nickname right about now, yknow.”
Nicholas still didn't look entirely convinced, but eventually nodded.
“Okay. Okay, okay, I got it. No more blaming myself.”
He's still kneeling on the ground, then eventually stands right back up when he remembers the role he's playing here. He clears his throat and dusts off his slacks.
“When did you get dragged here?”
”About … two days ago.”
[He holds up a little leather notebook.]
“I’ve been keeping track with this.”
“And you?”
“About the same. I arrived here with Skully, though I have no clue where he could possibly be right now. I'm just glad you're here.”
”Oh really? He’s here too? For all we know, there’s more people that have been transported here and more coming.”
[Kit seems to pause to seriously think about something, hand on his mouth before remembering Nick is there too.]
“So uh… what’s your deal here? What kinda persona are you playing? I’ll need to know so I don’t slip up while we’re here.”
“I'm playing the son of a marquis coming to visit for a change of scenery outside the capital. It's the role I played in life before... yeah. So it's coming to me naturally. And you?”
[He hums, recording the info for now and sheepishly admits.]
“I’m a simple island artisan, specializing in metalwork and jewelry! I’m honestly just myself… “
[Locket adds however, remembering that detail he had learned the other day.]
”Apparently my ancestors are famous sailors and heavy in the trade market, I didn’t know that though.”
“Also I didn’t know that about you.”
“It never came up... Plus, my entire house is kind of dead. But a sailor, hm? I can see it, you have that kind of air about you.”
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
[He stares at Nick, surprised clearly at the quick whirl of movements. Kit will neither confirm nor deny whether seeing Nick on one knee apologizing like so made him slightly blush. He shook his head, dropping to one knee too and gently placing a hand on Nick’s.]
“Don’t apologize, Kitty… I ain’t mad, this isn’t your fault.”
“I still broke it.” Nicholas lets go of Kit's hand to hug them again, definitely not willing to let go of his only friend.
“You're my only friend. If I can't keep a simple promise like promising to not leave because I let myself get transported to the Victorian era, then what kind of friend am I.”
[Kit is a little bit disoriented with all the movement directed towards him so quickly, awkwardly hugging Nick back.]
“I-I guess but this isn’t just something that happens everyday, it was just bad luck so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Nicholas looks up at Kit with the biggest, saddest pout ever. Poor guy is genuinely distraught.
He looks just like a kicked kitten, truly fitting the nickname Kit gave him.
[Kit sighs and cups his friend’s face, expression changing and now speaking sternly.]
“Nicholas. Stop blaming yourself for this. It is not your fault, okay.”
“I myself told you it was okay. Okay?”
[He lets go and runs a hand through his hair.]
“Alright now, Kitty? You’re really fitting your nickname right about now, yknow.”
Nicholas still didn't look entirely convinced, but eventually nodded.
“Okay. Okay, okay, I got it. No more blaming myself.”
He's still kneeling on the ground, then eventually stands right back up when he remembers the role he's playing here. He clears his throat and dusts off his slacks.
“When did you get dragged here?”
”About … two days ago.”
[He holds up a little leather notebook.]
“I’ve been keeping track with this.”
“And you?”
“About the same. I arrived here with Skully, though I have no clue where he could possibly be right now. I'm just glad you're here.”
”Oh really? He’s here too? For all we know, there’s more people that have been transported here and more coming.”
[Kit seems to pause to seriously think about something, hand on his mouth before remembering Nick is there too.]
“So uh… what’s your deal here? What kinda persona are you playing? I’ll need to know so I don’t slip up while we’re here.”
“I'm playing the son of a marquis coming to visit for a change of scenery outside the capital. It's the role I played in life before... yeah. So it's coming to me naturally. And you?”
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
[He stares at Nick, surprised clearly at the quick whirl of movements. Kit will neither confirm nor deny whether seeing Nick on one knee apologizing like so made him slightly blush. He shook his head, dropping to one knee too and gently placing a hand on Nick’s.]
“Don’t apologize, Kitty… I ain’t mad, this isn’t your fault.”
“I still broke it.” Nicholas lets go of Kit's hand to hug them again, definitely not willing to let go of his only friend.
“You're my only friend. If I can't keep a simple promise like promising to not leave because I let myself get transported to the Victorian era, then what kind of friend am I.”
[Kit is a little bit disoriented with all the movement directed towards him so quickly, awkwardly hugging Nick back.]
“I-I guess but this isn’t just something that happens everyday, it was just bad luck so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Nicholas looks up at Kit with the biggest, saddest pout ever. Poor guy is genuinely distraught.
He looks just like a kicked kitten, truly fitting the nickname Kit gave him.
[Kit sighs and cups his friend’s face, expression changing and now speaking sternly.]
“Nicholas. Stop blaming yourself for this. It is not your fault, okay.”
“I myself told you it was okay. Okay?”
[He lets go and runs a hand through his hair.]
“Alright now, Kitty? You’re really fitting your nickname right about now, yknow.”
Nicholas still didn't look entirely convinced, but eventually nodded.
“Okay. Okay, okay, I got it. No more blaming myself.”
He's still kneeling on the ground, then eventually stands right back up when he remembers the role he's playing here. He clears his throat and dusts off his slacks.
“When did you get dragged here?”
”About … two days ago.”
[He holds up a little leather notebook.]
“I’ve been keeping track with this.”
“And you?”
“About the same. I arrived here with Skully, though I have no clue where he could possibly be right now. I'm just glad you're here.”
finding pomefiore's resident disappointment
Greyson massaged the bridge of his nose as he slipped out of history class as soon as Professor Trein turned his back, footsteps light and quick as he retreated to his favorite spot in the courtyard. He sat down on a bench and pulled out his box of cigarettes, lighting one with a bit of magic and taking a long drag from it.
“Fucking finally.. I've been craving a smoke all day.” He mutters to himself, smoke drifting past his lips and curling into the air.
He thinks he's alone. But is he truly?
He's only halfway done with his cigarette when he hears the crunching of grass under shoes, and whips his head around, his void-like eyes wide with panic. He's absolutely dead if it's Vil or Rook who caught him, and even deader if Trein found him out here.
HURTS THE LUNGS, HURTS THE SOUL.
Vicente Cabro isn't well-known, but he isn't unknown, either. He's somewhere in the middle, and while he knows many people, he doesn't have a lot of them that he can call friends. Who knows— maybe Greyson Jude will be the one to become one of the rare people Vince calls a true friend. Maybe someone who isn't afraid to defy the rules is just what he needs.
Vince needs a break. He's only been in Night Raven College for a few months, and already he's getting overstimulated. He's never been away from his siblings for so long, the most being a day or two when he's out doing things. The absence of their chattering voices is jarring for him, and history class isn't really doing it for him when it comes to listening the growing ache in his heart. Stepping out of that stuffy classroom buzzing with energy and getting some fresh air for a few minutes is exactly what he needs right now.
Except the air isn't all that fresh. It's laced with smoke, something Vince can sense from a mile away. He's not unfamiliar with the smell—in fact, he even brought outside a pack of his own cigarettes, ready to use them to blow off some steam. Is there already someone smoking out here?
He steps forward, the grass beneath him shifting to hold his weight. When he gets closer, he tilts his head, recognizing their uniform. A Pomefiore student. And a young one, at that—a first year like him, maybe? Vince doesn't see many first years smoking like he does. This is new. And very welcome.
Vince comes closer, ready to join the other boy on the bench if he'd allow it, but he freezes when he whips his head around. He hadn't thought that he would scare the poor Pomefiore so badly.
"Ah... didn' mean t' startle ya', man. M' here for the same reason you are, if 'm bein' frank."
He takes out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, jostling them while his other hand moves to rub the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture.
"Do ya' mind if I sit next t' ya'? M' not a tattletale or anythin', I swear."
Hello, @preservedfrostbite!! I've been lurking around your blog for a little bit ever since @winterwhxspers told me about the roleplay that you're doing with your vampire OC, and I thought that you were super super cool!! I hope you don't mind me starting this roleplay with you, and, if you're up for it, I'd really like to get to know you more and be roleplay friends!!
Greyson looks at Vince for a moment, his black almost soulless eyes seeming to pierce through Vince's very being, then he pats the spot beside him invitingly.
“You're in my class, aren't you? T'be honest, I didn't think anyone else would come out to escape from Trein's bullshit.” Grey mumbles around his cigarette, digging in his pockets for a moment and pulling out a lighter that he offers to Vince. They can just use magic, sure, but there was something nostalgic about using an ordinary lighter.
Well, as ordinary as a custom-made lighter could get. The mirror and forest motifs, alongside Greyson's name scrawled in cursive, is a dead giveaway that he has money or at least comes from it.
“You scared the shit out of me, coming up behind me like that. I thought it was Vil or Rook or Trein coming to rip me a new one.”
"Ah—that's right, ain't it? You n' I are in the same class. Well, M' sorry for scarin' ya' like that either way. Just wanted t' have a friendly smoke—I don' see many first-years willin' t' do that with me."
Vince takes his seat a comfortable distance away from Greyson, leaning his arm against the side of the bench. He takes one of his cigarettes out, murmuring a small "thank you" when the other boy hands him the lighter.
"Unless ya' ain't willin', which in that case, I'd be makin' a fool outta myself right now. M' pretty experienced in that... locale."
Vince turns the lighter over in his hands, reading the word engraved off to the side.
"Doesn't look like any regular lighter I've seen. N' those cigarettes, too—look like they come from 'n expensive brand, why don't they. D' ya' think they feel any different to smoke, at the end?"
He chuckles, lighting up his cigarette and handing the lighter back. He takes a puff, giving the smoke a minute to properly mix with he air before he asks another question.
"Care to tell me who Greyson is?"
“That'd be me. Greyson Jude, but people usually just call me Grey.”
“There's probably not much of a difference, but you can try one of mine if you'd like.” He offers, taking the lighter back and pocketing it before blowing smoke out into the air.
“I don't mind hanging out with someone while I smoke, it's just that there aren't many first years willing to. And what about you, hm? I don't think I remember Trein calling your name out during attendance.”
"I see. Grey it is, then. Nice t' meetcha, Grey."
Vince takes the offered cigarette gingerly, lighting it with the other cigarette he has on hand.
"Feel like 'm in the presence 'f riches, I do. Like 'm some poor weasel on the side 'f the road that's gettin' a whiff of the way the wealthy do it. Reckon 'm feelin' right?"
He smiles at his analogy, taking a whiff from this cigarette.
"Flows a little better, that's for sure. But at the end 'f the day, the relief is all the same. Thanks for letting' me try em' out, though."
Vince tilts his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles wistfully. It's not a surprise to him that this Greyson stranger didn't catch his name right off the bat—it's near-missable, unless you're actually looking out for it. Vince won't admit it out loud, but the other boy does look like the type to fully disregard anyone who won't give him something.
Maybe this exchange is different. Or maybe he's the victim.
"Name's Vicente Cabro, but everyone calls me Vince. Don't blame ya' for not recognizing it right off the bat. A pretty ordinary name, that one."
Vince offers his own cigarette box to him, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
"Any chance you wanna take a look at life over on the poor side? Give 'ya some humility, won't it."
“Eh, why the hell not?” It was only fair, right? Truthfully he does feel bad for not catching the other boy's name, but it was only because he's running on three hours of sleep and an iced coffee.
“Vince, hm? I wouldn't call it ordinary, if anything I think Greyson is more common, but it's a pleasure to meet you as well.” He hums with consideration after getting a whiff of the other's cig.
“There's definitely a difference, but like you said before: they bring the same kind of relief.”
Vince nods, stretching out his arm on the bench's back. His fingers brush Greyson's blazer, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Right they do," he says simply, nodding as he brings the fancy cigarette up to his lips again. He looks back at the other boy, noticing the details in his uniform: the beret-like hat on his head, the accent necklaces, the earrings that are something new compared to what students at Night Raven College usually wear. It's cute, he thinks.
"I like what y' did with the outfit, by the way. Added 'ur own personal touch. That's nice."
He tips his cigarette over the bench, dusting some of the charcoal-dark particles off with his finger.
"What brings y' here, Grey? Something deep? R' just takin' a rest?"
“Thanks. I just thought it might be a nice way to make myself stand out a bit. Wearing uniforms takes away some of that self-expression.” Grey fidgets with one of the dangly earrings he has, one that's shaped like an arrowhead on a chain.
“It's just a certain smell in Trein's room that gives me a migraine, I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. And plus, I haven't had a smoke today until now. I just needed a break. You too, I'm guessing?”
"More 'r less."
Vince smiles faintly, but his eyes don't look like they're present in the conversation.
"'S hard for me to stay away from m' family for so long. I've been w' them for ages. I jus' got particularly overwhelmed today."
He watches Grey fidget with the earring, noticing that he might be uncomfortable. He hesitates before speaking his next words, voice careful.
"You wanna tell me how you got to this school? This college? Only if you wanna, of course."
He's praying to the sevens that Grey isn't uncomfortable with him. He's missed domestic stuff like this.
“To settle down, mostly. My mother travels for work and I never had the time to make real friends, plus I had several behavioral issues that often got me in trouble. I love my mother, I truly do, but sometimes it feels like she cares more about her job than me.” Greyson leans a bit into Vince, half-resting against the other boy's shoulder and throwing any worry of him being uncomfortable out of a metaphorical window.
“I'm honestly not all too sure what I want to do with my life. I believe my mother is some sort of... travel agent? I don't know. Last I checked, she was in Briar Valley and heading to the Coral Sea.”
Vince watches as Greyson leans in, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting this from the other boy, but, like everything, it's welcome with open arms.
Vince is a touchy person, and not having affection for months on end can make a touchy person go crazy. He used to get satiated easily, getting in a cuddle pile with his parents and siblings and watching a movie and play-fighting with them and sticking by their side. But now, this—barely a graze, an unconscious movement—is all the touch he can get anymore. It drives Vince mad, but he doesn't want to make a move and scare the poor boy. He... looses track of his limits sometimes, especially with unfamiliar things (or people).
"I understan' the feeling," Vince nods. "My parents used t' do the same thing, but t' a... more brash extent. But now I got brought into a lovin' family, n' I would never change 'em for anythin' else. Thing's get better, Grey. You can hold me t' it."
Vince looks down at his free palm, opening and closing it a few times. He pretends to do a cool magic spell, whacking it round and round as if he's doing something really powerful.
"Don' even have my UM yet. I wish, though."
His palm drops back to his lap.
"You have 'ur UM yet, Grey? Haven' seen one 'n action yet, so maybe 'd get 'ta know a thing r' two with 'urs."
“...I have mine, but it's not exactly... It's not something I'd want to use on a friend. It's invasive, I only ever use it if I really need to.” Greyson never received much affection during his childhood, and yet Vince.. This boy, this stranger he's just met.. Why was it so easy to tell him everything? It was almost baffling.
“I'm glad you have a better family, at the very least. It must be nice, having siblings. As far as I know, my closest relative is my grandmother, and I'm quite sick of hearing her preach about gender comformity.”
He laughs, but it's a little bitter. The Pomefiore student hides his wistful look behind another drag of his cigarette, which was already becoming a stub from use over time.
“I don't really think seeing people's deepest fears is someone I'd want to be known for, but it's not something I can really keep quiet for long.”
"Gender conformity? 'R ya' genderqueer, perchance? R' is it jus' because ya' dress a little feminin'?"
Vince takes a drag with him, the smoke from the two cigarettes hesitating before twisting and blending into each other. It's almost poetic.
"I don' care 'bout gender nonsense, don' get me wrong. I jus' wanna know what t' refer t' you by. Better t' tell me sooner than later, 'cause then I keep slippin' up."
Vince decides to be a little daring and press against Greyson's shoulder. Now, instead of a light graze, they're pressing into each other, however softly.
"Y' can see people's deepest fears? My, that's something', ain't it? Emotional UM's have alway's been m' preference compared t' physical ones. If y' eva' go haywire n' decide t' use it on me, I think I'd trust ya' w' the result. Ya' hear?"
“I might be genderqueer? Honestly, I have no clue. I just like to dress cute. And if cute means being a bit effeminate, then I guess that's what I'm rocking with. I do use masculine pronouns, maybe they/them too? I haven't really questioned it much. I just like what I like.” Grey shrugs, smile a little brighter now. His head is almost entirely resting on Vince's shoulder now. He always gets sleepy when he smokes, like it was some kind of curse for having a nicotine addiction.
“So that's your preference.. Well, your trust isn't misplaced, at the very least. Unless you decide to throw me in a fountain or something. I'm a little bit petty like that.”
"Well, you'll be happy t' kno' that I won't be throwin' anybody in any fountains anytime soon. That, you can count 'n"
Vince chuckles, letting Grey rest on his shoulder all he wants. He's itching to get closer, longing to get the affection he heeds. But he's able to controls himself and take another puff instead.
"How 'bout I use they/them on you from now on? So y' can see when one y' like better?"
Don't get ahead of 'urself, Vince. He don't mean anythin' by this. Stay calm.
"N' for me, you can use sum' usual he/him, by the way. To let 'ya know."
His fingers curl tighter around the cigarette.
“Mkay. I think I like that, using both. He and they. Feels right.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette, then snuffs it out and puts it back in the box so he's not littering.
“Glad to know that I won't be expecting any surprise baths from you, at least.”
"He n' they it is."
A comfortable silence wraps around the two boys. Or, comfortable for Greyson, at least—Vince is internally panicking, scrambling to find something else to talk about. He's usually good at this. Why can't he be good at this right now?
"Ya' told me a bit 'bout your home life, so 'll tell you 'bout mine 'n return," he blurts a little faster than usual. A weak conversation starter in the sense that it's obvious, but a conversation starter nonetheless.
"'M adopted. Grew up young n' a shit family, not very important. Got adopted by m' momma n' my mom n' my papa n' my dad when I was twelve. Ya' heard right: four. 'S a polycule, n' they adopted four children n' had five t' go with 'em. M' the seventh r' eighth, pretty sure."
Vince chuckles, ruffling Greyson's hair lightly as a thought occurs to him.
"If ya' ever wanna break from break from ur' momma, I'd be glad t' share one of mine. Y' can come over to my house, so long as y' don' mind doin' dirty work. 'Cause we live at a farm."
His beret is displaced by the ruffling, and he gives Vince a pout as he fixes it back into place. He looks contemplative for a moment, his hand going back up to fidget with that same earring, then hums. Not a response, but a consideration.
“I'm not one to shy away from dirty work, but I'll warn you now that I burn like dry grass in a heatwave.” It's a kind offer, one that he's never been given before. Usually people were too wary of him to get close.
“I think it'd be nice, staying in such a full house. I've never experienced what having siblings is like.”
"Ah, yes. Think it'll be real bondin' if we shovel cow manure t'gether!"
Vince laughs out loud, the worry from being away from his siblings for long slowly fading away. This boy—this sweet, quiet boy, really had an effect on Vince. Greyson was able to bring Vince back to normal even while they're talking about family.
A kind person, indeed. Vince would have to try his hardest to befriend Greyson.
"Reckon you'll have fun, though. 'll put you with sum' easier jobs, n' at the end, we could go do something' fun. Moms n' dads won't let you r' me leave without a fight."
A blush creeps up Vince's cheeks. There it is. He's lost his limits, and is inviting practically a stranger over to his house. What's up with me?! I can't be so bold alluva sudden!
"'Course, if 'ya want to, that is. N' even then, I'd like to get t' know 'ya sum' more."
“I'd have to convince Mother. But I would like that, even if just to get away from the Queendom for a while.” If one were to look close enough, a pink flush on the tips of Greyson's ears could be seen.
Easy to fluster under all the so-called aloofness. No one ever tries to approach them, and Vince might just be the first.
“You're sweet. Makes me unable to function properly. No one is ever this nice to me.”
Vince laughs heartily again, an amused glint in his eye. Greyson is oddly easy to read. When Vince first approached, he thought that Greyson would be one of the difficult, poker-face types. Turns out that he's just a bit shy.
"N' why would that be? You're adorable! Nevr' get people, really. Always judgin' for no reason."
Vince slaps Greyson's shoulder a few times, in a teasing, playful manner. He's grinning from ear to ear, happy that Greyson is happy and also so close to him.
"Thank's for the compliment, tho'. Most uvda kids here been screamin' 'm' stoic n' with a fragile ego' everywhere I look. Appreciate someone who can admit stuff jus' like that. "
Definitely shy, but definitely bold in his own ways. He can't seem to take gratitude properly, instead fidgeting with the hem of Vince's sleeve. He runs a finger up the length of the other boy's arm and then gives him a small smile.
“I'm adorable, huh? I think that might be a new word used to describe me. You're easy on the eyes too, Vince.”
Obvious? Yes. But Mother always said to go after the things he wants before they escape him.
And well...
Vince's eyebrows raises his eyebrows, scoffing.
"'Easy n' the eyes?' I've been called more uva hunk in my lifetime. But thank 'ya, Grey."
He looks down, watching Greyson's finger as it trails up his metal arm. He extends his fingers, showing the arm off a little bit.
"Does it look odd to 'ya, Grey? 'S a prosthetic arm, if 'ya couldn't tell. Got this while I was fulla bullshit. Still full bullshit now, but I can control myself. 'Nough."
Vince grabs one of his poor cigarettes, the newer one that Greyson gave him kicked to the curb long ago. He twists his finger, and a soft flame bursts from the tip of it, which he uses to heat up the front of the cigarette.
"Neat, ain't it? Put it there myself. 'M a bit of a metalworker, so t' speak. If 'ya ever need sumthin' metal done, don't be shy."
The way Greyson's pupils dilate at the sight of the flame is captivating, like gaining the trust of a reclusive creature enough for them to eat from your palm.
“...Yourself, huh? It suits you, makes you all the more charming, non?” He doesn't know why he slips into a different language, maybe it's from being in such proximity to Rook, or maybe his childhood lessons finally have reason to be used, but there are just some words that English doesn't contain to describe this.
“Une œuvre d'art. A work of art. Your arm, that is. Though that's not to say that you aren't also a work of art- Aïe, je suis en train de me creuser ma propre tombe.”
Grey goes silent, praying to the Seven to give him strength, and wills the warmth on his cheeks to retreat.
“What I mean to say is, your talent, precision, and dedication are works of art.”
Real smooth, Jude.
"Oh, 'd say that m' arm's a real piece of art, too. The rest 'f me, not so much. 'd like ta' say 'm a... more uva statue, maybe. R' someone on an emblem. R' on a coin."
Vince waves his hands around, being all showy in an exaggerated way to try and get this guy to laugh. He's not all that egoistical, so it's obvious that what he's saying is all just a joke. When Grey gives him a funny look, Vince can't help but burst into laughter all over again, slapping Grey on the back hard. Not enough to make a dent, but enough to make that cute pouting face again.
When Grey starts speaking French, though, Vince blanks, freezing in place.
"...Ah? What's up with the French? I don' speak a lick 'f French, 'll have 'ya know. Coulda' call'd me a slur, 'nd I'd have no clue!"
Vince snorts, grinning from ear to ear. It's true—he doesn't know not one bit of any other language besides the one he was born saying. The only French words he does know would be stuff like "oui oui" and "bonjour," and even then he would butcher them horribly (wei wei and bonejauhr).
"Care t' translate, 'r should I stay not knowin'? Could do that too, long as you pinky promise that ya' won't spew no shit 'bout me behind m' back."
“I said I was digging myself a grave. I'm not the best with words.” Grey smiles sheepishly, his earlier pout from when Vince slapped him on the back.
“You'd be able to tell if I was cussing you out in French, I promise.” His fingers twitch when he says that, like he's considering reaching up and playing with his earring again. It calmed him when he was embarrassed, though he's got not a clue why that's so.
“R’ ya’ sure ‘bout that? M’ not kiddin’ ‘round when I tell ‘ya that I don’t know nuthin’ ‘f French.”
Vince noticed Grey almost going to fiddle with his earring again, and decides to take a bold move and place his mechanical hand gently on top of Grey’s. He chuckles at the other boy’s sheepishness, winking at him as he speaks.
“Think ‘ur good with words, tho’. Ain’t have nobody call me a work ‘f art in this lifetime. N’ I don’t think nobody’ll ever tell me it like you did.”
So much care around the words. So much tenderness, even though they’re technically not even friends yet. Vince wonders why that is, but drops it after a few seconds of pondering. It’s probably just out of formality.
“How ‘bout you tell me ‘bout a curse word, so I can seem real cool when I cuss ‘em out usin’ sum French? Think ‘ll look badass?”
Greyson audibly squeaks when he feels Vince place a hand over his, face turning bright red once again. Well fuck.
“I think you'd only be impressive if you knew more than just a few curse words, but alright. Though in my opinion, the best insults are the ones you don't need to use swears.”
Vince laughs out loud at the squeak, but he makes sure that Greyson’s actually comfortable with what he’s doing. His eyes rake over Greyson’s form, deciding to keep his hand there and not push any further to see what else the other boy will do. For a minute, Vince wishes that he could get Grey’s flushed face on camera…
“Mmm… We’ll, if ‘ya think that way, then how ‘bout ya’ give me a real authentic French insult? One that’ll get someone’s boots shakin’, so I can tell it to ‘ur haters n’ have ‘em runnin’ for their lives?”
He snickers at the thought, but he’s not really kidding. If anyone was fucking around with Greyson, Vince would be very sure to give them a piece of his mind. It’s what friends do, of course.
Greyson had only been surprised, he truly didn't mind. He could also feel the way Vince's eyes traveled over him, almost shivering.
“Avoir le QI d’une huître. It means that to have the IQ of an oyster. One of my favorites, personally.” Grey smiles, a bright little thing that makes the world feel just a little bit brighter.
“There's also 'Con comme une valise sans poignée.' It means 'as stupid as a suitcase without a handle.'”
"A suitcase without no handle 's pretty stupid!"
Vince laughs, patting Grey on the back for the good insults. He tries to say the insult in French—"cone conmeh uhn valaisw sans po-ih-knee?"—but butchers it terribly and has to watch as Grey laughs in his face.
"Wha—hey! M' pronunciation ain't tha' bad! V' never dun this befor'!"
He's not offended by it, though. Vince laughs along with Grey, but pauses when he catches sight of that pretty smile. My, Sevens...
"Ya'know, after seein' it n' person, m' thinkin' you should smile a little more. Suits 'ya. Brings out yer eyes."
He takes out his phone, opening the camera app.
"Cm'ere. Lemme show ya'."
He puts them two into the frame, grinning wide.
“Your French isn't too bad for a beginner.” Greyson praises, only to blink in surprise when Vince takes out his phone.
He flushes at the compliment to his smile, but sheepishly looks towards the camera while placing a hand on Vince's shoulder.
For a moment, he looks a little hesitant to smile, but when he does it's just as sweet as the one he gave to Vince moments before.
"There 'ya go! D' ya see tha' cute thin'?"
Vince shows Greyson the photo, zooming into his face. Whether or not Greyson sees anything different in himself, it's clear that Vince sees a lot in him.
"'Dorable! Ya'd really be a hot shot, if ya did tha' 'round more people. Good thin' that ya' ain't, 'cause I kinda wanna keep tha' perfect smile all to m'self."
Vince sends the photo to his family group chat before putting the phone into his pocket. The action rides his pants down just a tad, but what's really curious is the white fur peeking underneath. He doesn't seem to realize this, nor the implications of what he just said.
"Do 'ya wanna pictura 'f me, too? 'Could pose all pretty fo' ya. Well—ima try m' best, that's fo' sure."
Greyson visible short circuits, face steadily turning as red as Riddle's hair. His heart is racing for reasons he can't identify properly, with the source of this reaction all coming from the boy seated next to him.
“I-” His throat feels dry. Why does it feel dry?
“You wouldn't have to pose, you're pretty as is.” He mutters, too flustered to notice the fur as he takes out his own phone cups Vince's face with his free hand.
It seems like he's perfectly fine with taking pictures with other people as long as he's not the main subject of it. He stares at the photo for a very long time, then pockets his phone after sending it to someone.
Who?
Who knows. There wasn't a contact name.
:)
Vince sticks out his tongue in an attempt to look silly, cheeks puffed out in a wide smile. When he's allowed to move again, he tries to look over, but Greyson doesn't let him since he doesn't want the other boy to see who he's sending it to.
"Wha—hey! Whos' that, eh? Ya' beter not be sendin' stuf t' sum rando who'll mock me fo' tha' arm o' mine!"
Vince pouts after realizing that he's really not going to be allowed to see who he's texting, but then his eyes light up when an idea crosses his mind.
"Ah! Didya want my magicam n' that number o' mine, Grey? M' happy t' give it t'ya! I post sum stuff n' there, f' ya'd like t' take a look!"
He looks excited to share it. Greyson can't say no to those puppy eyes.
“Simply a friend of mine. I keep forgetting to save her contact.” Either way, he nods when Greyson asks if he could share his socials.
“Oui, I want to keep in touch with you. It's too easy to lose people in this school.”
"Sure! Jus' type in 'ere 'V1nce.xz', n' it'll probably pop up!"
That's what Greyson starts with, typing the handle into magicam to find the account. When he clicks on the profile picture of a cat hiding in the bushes of a forest, he can already spot a picture from Vince at the gym peeking out from under his bio.
"I could type ma numba for ya, if ya'd like! Y' could put whateva profile picture ya' wanna on there! N' y' don' mind me taggin 'ya n' stuff, d'ya?"
Vince tilts his head, clearly oblivious to the thoughts running through Greyson's mind.
Greyson follows the account, immediately liking the most recent post.
“I don't post much on my account, aside from things I find while skipping. But I don't mind if you tag me. I'll put in your phone number too, just because.”
"Sure! Ima tag 'ya in a whole buncha stuff now, just 'cause 'ya said yes. Just for 'ya t' keep n' eye out."
Vince takes Greyson's phone, inputting the number and putting his name as "VINCE!!". He then sends a test text to himself (labeled as Testing!! Testing!! 123!) and then checks his own phone (responding with It worked!!)
"It worked!" Vince exclaims out loud, looking up from his phone.
"'ll be textin' ya 24/7, too. Any sorta pref as ta' what ya' want ur profile pic n' ur name ta' be?"
Vince hands Greyson the phone for him to input it himself.
“No preference. Though you can't go texting me at two in the morning now, or Vil will have my head for disturbing my roommates.” Grey teases as he inputs his phone number into Vince's phone (after double-checking it).
All he sent?
<3
"Awe, r' ya' serious 'bout that? two AM is prime time fo' textin' n' chattin'!"
He check his prone for the test text message, lighting up when he sees the heart.
"Tha's such a cute heart! 'Ur softer than I thought! D'ya text everyon' a heart, r' am I a special lil' fella?"
Vince chuckles, texting back a small emoticon: (*U*). He stares at his phone more, waiting for a new text to pop up from Greyson. He's liking this silent game. He thinks it's cute.
“It was the first thing I thought of...”
He replies to the emoticon with one of his one: (*´ω｀*)
“I don't text a lot, really. I forgot how much I liked emoticons.”
"Gahdayum, did 'ya make that? Tha's very creative, 'f I do say so m'self!"
Greyson fiddles with the keyboard, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tries to make one by himself. Greyson tries to speak, but Vince won't let him until he's conjured up the perfect kaomoji to use.
"Eh... ahah! 'Think I got it!"
He sends the one he made along with a few variations, grinning like a proud father when he finishes and sits back.
\ (// `u` //) /
\ (// `_` //) /
\ (// `0` //) /
\ (// `^` //) /
“Oh those are so cute. You're good at making kaomojis.” Greyson hearts all of the kaomojis Vince made, though the emoji he uses isn't a heart but rather a spiderweb...
Vince lets out a smug "hmph!" and tilts his chin up, proud. He loves to show off hone it comes to the people that he likes, and he loves even more to get praise for it.
"Thank 'ya! Ya can use 'em if ya... huh?"
Vince looks down at his phone, noticing that Greyson hearted all of the kaomojis with spiderwebs. He tilts his head, squinting to make sure that he was seeing right.
"'S thatta spiderweb?"
Vince looks back up, eyes filled with wonder.
"Wha' kinda reaction 's tha'? Means tha' ma lil' 'emojis r' old r' sumthin?"
“It's just something I do. I got bored of using normal hearts so I chose the spiderweb to be my personal version of a heart emoji. It works the same, I just prefer mine.” Admittedly, Greyson was a bit embarrassed about it. He chose it when he was younger, and it always just kind of stuck.
"N' folks still call 'ya intimidatin'? Ha!"
Vince laughs, abandoning his phone to reach out and pinch Greyson's cheeks. His touch is soft, but his hands are rough. Probably from days of working at the farm.
"What a cutie! Wouldda never thoughtta doin' somethin' so creative! How cute!"
Vince moves back, picking up his phone again. He taps his chin, scrolling through emojis until his eyes light up. He then proceeds to like all of Greyson's texts, but instead of a heart, it's a leaf.
"Whaddya think 'f that? Neat, eh? I take it from ya'!"
“I can be intimidating when I want to be...” It's a flimsy excuse, but not a lie. He's ruined people's lives before.
“Awh that's cute. A leaf suits you.”
His cheeks are sore from Vince's pinching, even a bit red, but that's more from being called cute rather than the pinching.
"Uhuh. Sure 'ya can. 'S a-okay if ur a lil shy, ya'know."
Vince chuckles, now pressing into Greyson fully. He's open for a hug, he very much wants a hug, but he also doesn't want to push Greyson.
"Did'ja really wanna come ofer ta' ma' farm? R' wassat all sum joke?"
He grins, placing his head on Greyson's shoulder.
"Would love it 'f ya came. But we only jus' met."
His eyes light up as a new idea dawns on him.
"Whaddya say ya ask me a few questions, eh? N' I do the same ta ya! How about 'ya start?"
Vince looks at Greyson expectantly, giving him no room to conplain.
Greyson huffs with mock offense and lets his head fall onto Vince's shoulder.
“I don't joke lightly about wanting to escape my mother. I'd love to visit.” He admits, already itching for another cigarette. He doesn't wait long before he's grabbing another from his box and lighting it.
“Me first? Okay. Who's your favorite Housewarden besides your own?”
"Fave housewarden? Ahh... Well, a do like Kalim a bunch! He's such a sweetie. Jamil's a lil more iffy ta' me."
Vince presses his cheek against Greyson's head. He thinks about what question he could ask for a few seconds, taking out another cigarette of his own and asking the question when he the smoke in his mouth caught with the air.
"Aha! Em... wha's tha' guilty preasure of yours? Hope 'm sayin' it right. Neva asked sumone before."
“Anything with white chocolate.” Greyson replies, then takes a drag from it. The taste lingers, like it usually does.
“Right back at you: what's your guilty pleasure?”
"Me? Ah... ah'd say... well."
Vince snorts, getting a little shy now. He usually doesn't reveal things like this right off the bat, but... oh, hell. Vince trusts Grey enough for this.
"Ya might find it stupid, but I do like ta' dance. Think I look like tha' dancin' type, Burt not fo' tha type dancing tha' I do. 'Cause I do pole dancin'."
He nudges Greyson playfully, winking.
"White chocolate's all? C'mon, Grey— ya ain't got nuthin more 'guilty' than tha'? Won't tell a soul, ya' know."
“Well I don't think chain smoking three packs a week is a guilty pleasure if I'm not guilty about it. I guess I really don't have anything.” Greyson tries not to think about the math of that.
He instead focuses on the part Vince said about pole-dancing, then immediately cuts that line of thought when it treads into 'i wouldn't mind watching him poledance' territory.
Vince's smile wavers a little. Three packs a week? Vince may smoke, but not three packs a week. He doesn't mention it yet, but he knows that at some point he's going to have to do something about it. Smoking that much at Greyson's age gets him nervous.
"Well, m' gonna need a lil more from ya. How 'bout... a secret? Here— 'll give ya mine first. Fair 'change."
Vince taps his chin, thinking about a good secret to give him.
"Ah. 've gotta good 'un. N' if ya come to da farm, ur gonna see 'em anyway."
Vince chuckles nervously, rolling his pant legs up to reveal white fur. His face turns a little redder as he speaks.
"Goat legs."
“Huh. Neat.” Greyson genuinely didn't care if Vince had goat legs, someone in Pomefiore was literally covered in scales because of a faulty transformation potion. And what was the point of being in a magical school if you didn't meet some strange people?
“A secret of mine? Hm...” Greyson takes another drag of his cigarette while he thinks, searching for anything that he might categorize as a secret.
Oh.
Well. There's that, of course.
But...
No, too soon.
“Not so much as a secret but it's something I'm ashamed of. I used to run with a pretty bad group in middle school and it got me sent to a juvenile detention center more than once.”
"Well, I'll be! Ya ain't so innocent as I thought, eh?" Vince laughed. He didn't look too fazed. He has met more than a few people who had done bad things in their lives and were trying to get better. He suspected that Greyson was the same way.
He could only hope, anyway.
"N' I suspect 'ur gettin' better, no? 'Cause 'ur real nice n' amazin'! M' enjoying' ma time wit ya!"
He winks, pulling down his pant leg. He doesn't feel so ashamed about his legs anymore. Not with the way Greyson reacted to them. He's glad that the other boy didn't find them weird like most do.
"How 'bout ya ask me sumthin' crazy now? Don' want ya ta think tha' I get all tha privilege in askin' personal stuff."
“Hm. What's the worse thing you've done to someone? If you can't think of anything, then what do you think is the worst?” Greyson didn't like how much faith Vince had in him. Would he still think the same after seeing the case files?
The sight of her still haunts his nightmares, he has a feeling that she'll never forgive him even when he's dead.
"Me? Ah... well, wouldn't call m'self a very bad guy. Most ah'd say is driven' summon ta madness with da way I get all competitive sumtimes," Vince chuckles. Him and his family aren't really ones to harm anybody; they've all been called sweethearts at least once in their lives. Except two people of the bunch, but even then they're trying to change.
A satanist and a cannibalist. An unhealthy duo.
"N' wha 'bout you? R' should I ask a differen' quest'n?"
Vince takes another smoke, looking at Greyson inquisitively. Maybe he did something bad in the juvenile detention of his. He wouldn't very much mind if it's in the past.
“I did something that hurt one of my friends and I still feel horrible about it. It was my idea, and I didn't think anyone would get hurt.” Blood. So much blood. He didn't know a person had that much in them.
Is it better or worse that he's glad it was her and not anyone else?
He looks one minute away from just shoving his cigarette into his mouth and eating it.
“Ah, don't tell anyone, but I'm still supposed to be serving time.”
Vince almost judges, but then he stops and rethinks. Judging? Really? In his predicament? No.
"I won' tell. An' if ya don' wanna tell what happen' tha' day either, tha's a-okay. But jus' kno' tha you n' I, well, we're in tha same situation. So if 'ya ever wanna tell me 'bout tha, I could tell ya bout my siblings Marcy n Ophelia."
He smiles, trying to lighten the mood.
"How 'bout we move to sumthin a lil lighter? Like, eh... ah—HAH! Like crushes! Ya have a crush? R' do ya kno' bout any drama round here?"
“I don't have a crush on anyone, but for drama? I hear that there's a student in Diasomnia who is the reason for all of the strange white flowers popping up around campus.”
"Eh? Do ya know who tha student is? R do I gotta pay a fee ta kno'?"
Vince giggles, ruffling Greyson's hair as an excuse to get to touch him more. Vince had never really had a crush before, more prone to feeling familial things than anything else. But now, with this sweet, broken boy...
He didn't want to get too into it.
"I'm funny, ain't I? Say m' funny, R' I'll get Riddle ta chop ur head off," he teases.
“Well you're funnier than everyone in Pomefiore, I'll give you that. I don't know who the student is, I've just seen him around one of the third years. Uh, red hair, green eyes, really likes roses. I think his name is Briar. They're.. kind of weird.”
"Weird how?" Vince asks, tilting his head.
"'Cause ah'd say tha' we're weird, too. Is it like tha'? R' sumthin' different?"
He tilts his head, reaching out and snatching another fancy cigarette from Greyson. He chuckles, lighting the front with his mechanical finger like he had shown before. He then opens a hidden pocket in his arm, taking out two chocolate bites.
"Want? It ain't white. N' I've got otha stuff, 'f ya want. Jus' take a peek in ther'."
“Nah, I'll pass. I'm not really craving anything sweet right now.” Greyson tries to think of a more appropriate word for the two he's describing.
“Well the Diasomnia student doesn't... Well to put it plainly, he looks like he should be dead. One time I think I saw him remove his entire arm. For my upperclassman... I don't know. Something about his rose garden feels weird.”
Well, this didn't really go the direction he wanted it to, did it? He tried to lighten the mood, and now it's become even darker. He feels like an idiot.
"Tha's pretty wild. Neva knew of sumone who could do tha before."
Vince chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He hopes that Greyson will ask him a question, because he doesn't think that asking him so many things at a time is very appropriate. What else can he comment on? Think, think...
“Sorry, I'm bad at keeping things light. Uhm... What's your favorite cafe? Maybe we can go there sometime, my treat.” Greyson could really go for an iced caramel macchiato, especially with the weather warming up.
"Favorite cafe? Ta be hones', I don' usually go. How 'bout ya tell me urs? R we could even go there', if we're able ta."
After a second, he adds quickly:
"Only if ya wanna! 'S of course ur decisi'n! I don' mean ta be so forward 'bout these things. M' sorry."
Vince rubs his hand over his arm a few times. He hopes that Greyson isn't getting weirded out because of how forward he keeps being. But then again, going right about now to a cafe sounds like a good idea... to drink a smoothie from the same straw like 1980s rom-coms...
Sevens, what is he thinking?!
“There's this one in town I really like. They have these amazing pastries made with actual vanilla filling in them.” Grey's face practically lights up as he describes them, but uh... (Un)fortunately for Vince, Greyson doesn't seem to notice just how forward Vince is being.
Oof.
Greyson though, they were just happy to have a friend.
"Would ya maybe wanna go ther' right 'bout now? Would love ta try un!"
Vince smiles, already gathering his things to leave. If Vince knew Greyson even a little, he could already tell that someone like him would know the best way to sneak out of school. He's done it a few times himself, but maybe learning from a true expert would prove him well. Most of the times that he's done it, he's gone straight to detention.
"Promise tha' I won' let us get caught," he winks.
“Sure, why not. I've got my wallet on me anyway.” Greyson snuffs out his cigarette and tucks it back into the box, then stands up to stretch. His back cracks audibly in several different places, and they sigh while slumping just a tad.
“You promise? Well, then don't go breaking it. I don't like people who break promises.” It's lighthearted, paired with a smile, but Greyson knows just how hypocritical he was being by saying that.
"Ima be payin', thank ya very much. 've got more money than I need," Vince huffs, standing up with Greyson. He leads the way to the area that would take them out of the school grounds, smiling at the teasing quip.
"Don' plan on it, a' least—ain't mean tha' it might happen. Seein' tha' ya got outta tha' prison, I'm thinkin' tha you've got a lotta practice in this, so we should be fine."
He climbs onto the top fence, climbing it and lending Greyson a hand when he reaches the top.
"Ur scrawny, but I believe in 'ya!"
Scrawny? A rare bit of competitiveness blooms in Greyson as he grasps the fence and heaves himself over it with ease.
“Scrawny, eh?” He parrots, a grin on his face.
"Wha—EY! Ya ain't supposed ta do tha'!" Vince huffs, but he's laughing. He jumps a mediocre distance from the fence to the floor, turning back to Greyson and holding out his arms.
"'ll catch ya', ya devious princess!" He exclaims, laughing out loud. He hasn't had this much fun without his siblings for a while now.
"N' hurry, 'else the police 's gonna catch 'ya! Tha' of which bein' Vil 'n Rook!"
A ploy: mention his worst nightmares to make him pressured into making his decision faster.
Greyson huffs, then lets go of the fence with full trust that Vince will actually catch him. He's never escaped campus before, he'll certainly have to hell to pay later, but for now he'll enjoy this.
Vince laughs loudly, catching Greyson and twirling him around. He keeps one hand under the other boy and one hand on his back, making sure that Greyson is completely safe in his arms.
"Wha' Didya think 'f tha? M' pretty strong, eh?"
He wasn't struggling holding Greyson, that's for sure. Vince beams, walking a few steps forward.
"Might keep ya in ma arms 'til we get there. Whaddya think, eh?" he jokes, winking.
“Oh you are pretty strong. Not even a hint of a struggle, what luck I have, hmmm?” Greyson makes no indication of wanting to be put down, but he will make a point to stand on his own if Vince really wanted to put him back on the ground.
“What did you call me, 'Princess'? I guess that would make you my knight in shining armor.”
finding pomefiore's resident disappointment
Greyson massaged the bridge of his nose as he slipped out of history class as soon as Professor Trein turned his back, footsteps light and quick as he retreated to his favorite spot in the courtyard. He sat down on a bench and pulled out his box of cigarettes, lighting one with a bit of magic and taking a long drag from it.
“Fucking finally.. I've been craving a smoke all day.” He mutters to himself, smoke drifting past his lips and curling into the air.
He thinks he's alone. But is he truly?
He's only halfway done with his cigarette when he hears the crunching of grass under shoes, and whips his head around, his void-like eyes wide with panic. He's absolutely dead if it's Vil or Rook who caught him, and even deader if Trein found him out here.
HURTS THE LUNGS, HURTS THE SOUL.
Vicente Cabro isn't well-known, but he isn't unknown, either. He's somewhere in the middle, and while he knows many people, he doesn't have a lot of them that he can call friends. Who knows— maybe Greyson Jude will be the one to become one of the rare people Vince calls a true friend. Maybe someone who isn't afraid to defy the rules is just what he needs.
Vince needs a break. He's only been in Night Raven College for a few months, and already he's getting overstimulated. He's never been away from his siblings for so long, the most being a day or two when he's out doing things. The absence of their chattering voices is jarring for him, and history class isn't really doing it for him when it comes to listening the growing ache in his heart. Stepping out of that stuffy classroom buzzing with energy and getting some fresh air for a few minutes is exactly what he needs right now.
Except the air isn't all that fresh. It's laced with smoke, something Vince can sense from a mile away. He's not unfamiliar with the smell—in fact, he even brought outside a pack of his own cigarettes, ready to use them to blow off some steam. Is there already someone smoking out here?
He steps forward, the grass beneath him shifting to hold his weight. When he gets closer, he tilts his head, recognizing their uniform. A Pomefiore student. And a young one, at that—a first year like him, maybe? Vince doesn't see many first years smoking like he does. This is new. And very welcome.
Vince comes closer, ready to join the other boy on the bench if he'd allow it, but he freezes when he whips his head around. He hadn't thought that he would scare the poor Pomefiore so badly.
"Ah... didn' mean t' startle ya', man. M' here for the same reason you are, if 'm bein' frank."
He takes out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, jostling them while his other hand moves to rub the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture.
"Do ya' mind if I sit next t' ya'? M' not a tattletale or anythin', I swear."
Hello, @preservedfrostbite!! I've been lurking around your blog for a little bit ever since @winterwhxspers told me about the roleplay that you're doing with your vampire OC, and I thought that you were super super cool!! I hope you don't mind me starting this roleplay with you, and, if you're up for it, I'd really like to get to know you more and be roleplay friends!!
Greyson looks at Vince for a moment, his black almost soulless eyes seeming to pierce through Vince's very being, then he pats the spot beside him invitingly.
“You're in my class, aren't you? T'be honest, I didn't think anyone else would come out to escape from Trein's bullshit.” Grey mumbles around his cigarette, digging in his pockets for a moment and pulling out a lighter that he offers to Vince. They can just use magic, sure, but there was something nostalgic about using an ordinary lighter.
Well, as ordinary as a custom-made lighter could get. The mirror and forest motifs, alongside Greyson's name scrawled in cursive, is a dead giveaway that he has money or at least comes from it.
“You scared the shit out of me, coming up behind me like that. I thought it was Vil or Rook or Trein coming to rip me a new one.”
"Ah—that's right, ain't it? You n' I are in the same class. Well, M' sorry for scarin' ya' like that either way. Just wanted t' have a friendly smoke—I don' see many first-years willin' t' do that with me."
Vince takes his seat a comfortable distance away from Greyson, leaning his arm against the side of the bench. He takes one of his cigarettes out, murmuring a small "thank you" when the other boy hands him the lighter.
"Unless ya' ain't willin', which in that case, I'd be makin' a fool outta myself right now. M' pretty experienced in that... locale."
Vince turns the lighter over in his hands, reading the word engraved off to the side.
"Doesn't look like any regular lighter I've seen. N' those cigarettes, too—look like they come from 'n expensive brand, why don't they. D' ya' think they feel any different to smoke, at the end?"
He chuckles, lighting up his cigarette and handing the lighter back. He takes a puff, giving the smoke a minute to properly mix with he air before he asks another question.
"Care to tell me who Greyson is?"
“That'd be me. Greyson Jude, but people usually just call me Grey.”
“There's probably not much of a difference, but you can try one of mine if you'd like.” He offers, taking the lighter back and pocketing it before blowing smoke out into the air.
“I don't mind hanging out with someone while I smoke, it's just that there aren't many first years willing to. And what about you, hm? I don't think I remember Trein calling your name out during attendance.”
"I see. Grey it is, then. Nice t' meetcha, Grey."
Vince takes the offered cigarette gingerly, lighting it with the other cigarette he has on hand.
"Feel like 'm in the presence 'f riches, I do. Like 'm some poor weasel on the side 'f the road that's gettin' a whiff of the way the wealthy do it. Reckon 'm feelin' right?"
He smiles at his analogy, taking a whiff from this cigarette.
"Flows a little better, that's for sure. But at the end 'f the day, the relief is all the same. Thanks for letting' me try em' out, though."
Vince tilts his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles wistfully. It's not a surprise to him that this Greyson stranger didn't catch his name right off the bat—it's near-missable, unless you're actually looking out for it. Vince won't admit it out loud, but the other boy does look like the type to fully disregard anyone who won't give him something.
Maybe this exchange is different. Or maybe he's the victim.
"Name's Vicente Cabro, but everyone calls me Vince. Don't blame ya' for not recognizing it right off the bat. A pretty ordinary name, that one."
Vince offers his own cigarette box to him, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
"Any chance you wanna take a look at life over on the poor side? Give 'ya some humility, won't it."
“Eh, why the hell not?” It was only fair, right? Truthfully he does feel bad for not catching the other boy's name, but it was only because he's running on three hours of sleep and an iced coffee.
“Vince, hm? I wouldn't call it ordinary, if anything I think Greyson is more common, but it's a pleasure to meet you as well.” He hums with consideration after getting a whiff of the other's cig.
“There's definitely a difference, but like you said before: they bring the same kind of relief.”
Vince nods, stretching out his arm on the bench's back. His fingers brush Greyson's blazer, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Right they do," he says simply, nodding as he brings the fancy cigarette up to his lips again. He looks back at the other boy, noticing the details in his uniform: the beret-like hat on his head, the accent necklaces, the earrings that are something new compared to what students at Night Raven College usually wear. It's cute, he thinks.
"I like what y' did with the outfit, by the way. Added 'ur own personal touch. That's nice."
He tips his cigarette over the bench, dusting some of the charcoal-dark particles off with his finger.
"What brings y' here, Grey? Something deep? R' just takin' a rest?"
“Thanks. I just thought it might be a nice way to make myself stand out a bit. Wearing uniforms takes away some of that self-expression.” Grey fidgets with one of the dangly earrings he has, one that's shaped like an arrowhead on a chain.
“It's just a certain smell in Trein's room that gives me a migraine, I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. And plus, I haven't had a smoke today until now. I just needed a break. You too, I'm guessing?”
"More 'r less."
Vince smiles faintly, but his eyes don't look like they're present in the conversation.
"'S hard for me to stay away from m' family for so long. I've been w' them for ages. I jus' got particularly overwhelmed today."
He watches Grey fidget with the earring, noticing that he might be uncomfortable. He hesitates before speaking his next words, voice careful.
"You wanna tell me how you got to this school? This college? Only if you wanna, of course."
He's praying to the sevens that Grey isn't uncomfortable with him. He's missed domestic stuff like this.
“To settle down, mostly. My mother travels for work and I never had the time to make real friends, plus I had several behavioral issues that often got me in trouble. I love my mother, I truly do, but sometimes it feels like she cares more about her job than me.” Greyson leans a bit into Vince, half-resting against the other boy's shoulder and throwing any worry of him being uncomfortable out of a metaphorical window.
“I'm honestly not all too sure what I want to do with my life. I believe my mother is some sort of... travel agent? I don't know. Last I checked, she was in Briar Valley and heading to the Coral Sea.”
Vince watches as Greyson leans in, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting this from the other boy, but, like everything, it's welcome with open arms.
Vince is a touchy person, and not having affection for months on end can make a touchy person go crazy. He used to get satiated easily, getting in a cuddle pile with his parents and siblings and watching a movie and play-fighting with them and sticking by their side. But now, this—barely a graze, an unconscious movement—is all the touch he can get anymore. It drives Vince mad, but he doesn't want to make a move and scare the poor boy. He... looses track of his limits sometimes, especially with unfamiliar things (or people).
"I understan' the feeling," Vince nods. "My parents used t' do the same thing, but t' a... more brash extent. But now I got brought into a lovin' family, n' I would never change 'em for anythin' else. Thing's get better, Grey. You can hold me t' it."
Vince looks down at his free palm, opening and closing it a few times. He pretends to do a cool magic spell, whacking it round and round as if he's doing something really powerful.
"Don' even have my UM yet. I wish, though."
His palm drops back to his lap.
"You have 'ur UM yet, Grey? Haven' seen one 'n action yet, so maybe 'd get 'ta know a thing r' two with 'urs."
“...I have mine, but it's not exactly... It's not something I'd want to use on a friend. It's invasive, I only ever use it if I really need to.” Greyson never received much affection during his childhood, and yet Vince.. This boy, this stranger he's just met.. Why was it so easy to tell him everything? It was almost baffling.
“I'm glad you have a better family, at the very least. It must be nice, having siblings. As far as I know, my closest relative is my grandmother, and I'm quite sick of hearing her preach about gender comformity.”
He laughs, but it's a little bitter. The Pomefiore student hides his wistful look behind another drag of his cigarette, which was already becoming a stub from use over time.
“I don't really think seeing people's deepest fears is someone I'd want to be known for, but it's not something I can really keep quiet for long.”
"Gender conformity? 'R ya' genderqueer, perchance? R' is it jus' because ya' dress a little feminin'?"
Vince takes a drag with him, the smoke from the two cigarettes hesitating before twisting and blending into each other. It's almost poetic.
"I don' care 'bout gender nonsense, don' get me wrong. I jus' wanna know what t' refer t' you by. Better t' tell me sooner than later, 'cause then I keep slippin' up."
Vince decides to be a little daring and press against Greyson's shoulder. Now, instead of a light graze, they're pressing into each other, however softly.
"Y' can see people's deepest fears? My, that's something', ain't it? Emotional UM's have alway's been m' preference compared t' physical ones. If y' eva' go haywire n' decide t' use it on me, I think I'd trust ya' w' the result. Ya' hear?"
“I might be genderqueer? Honestly, I have no clue. I just like to dress cute. And if cute means being a bit effeminate, then I guess that's what I'm rocking with. I do use masculine pronouns, maybe they/them too? I haven't really questioned it much. I just like what I like.” Grey shrugs, smile a little brighter now. His head is almost entirely resting on Vince's shoulder now. He always gets sleepy when he smokes, like it was some kind of curse for having a nicotine addiction.
“So that's your preference.. Well, your trust isn't misplaced, at the very least. Unless you decide to throw me in a fountain or something. I'm a little bit petty like that.”
"Well, you'll be happy t' kno' that I won't be throwin' anybody in any fountains anytime soon. That, you can count 'n"
Vince chuckles, letting Grey rest on his shoulder all he wants. He's itching to get closer, longing to get the affection he heeds. But he's able to controls himself and take another puff instead.
"How 'bout I use they/them on you from now on? So y' can see when one y' like better?"
Don't get ahead of 'urself, Vince. He don't mean anythin' by this. Stay calm.
"N' for me, you can use sum' usual he/him, by the way. To let 'ya know."
His fingers curl tighter around the cigarette.
“Mkay. I think I like that, using both. He and they. Feels right.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette, then snuffs it out and puts it back in the box so he's not littering.
“Glad to know that I won't be expecting any surprise baths from you, at least.”
"He n' they it is."
A comfortable silence wraps around the two boys. Or, comfortable for Greyson, at least—Vince is internally panicking, scrambling to find something else to talk about. He's usually good at this. Why can't he be good at this right now?
"Ya' told me a bit 'bout your home life, so 'll tell you 'bout mine 'n return," he blurts a little faster than usual. A weak conversation starter in the sense that it's obvious, but a conversation starter nonetheless.
"'M adopted. Grew up young n' a shit family, not very important. Got adopted by m' momma n' my mom n' my papa n' my dad when I was twelve. Ya' heard right: four. 'S a polycule, n' they adopted four children n' had five t' go with 'em. M' the seventh r' eighth, pretty sure."
Vince chuckles, ruffling Greyson's hair lightly as a thought occurs to him.
"If ya' ever wanna break from break from ur' momma, I'd be glad t' share one of mine. Y' can come over to my house, so long as y' don' mind doin' dirty work. 'Cause we live at a farm."
His beret is displaced by the ruffling, and he gives Vince a pout as he fixes it back into place. He looks contemplative for a moment, his hand going back up to fidget with that same earring, then hums. Not a response, but a consideration.
“I'm not one to shy away from dirty work, but I'll warn you now that I burn like dry grass in a heatwave.” It's a kind offer, one that he's never been given before. Usually people were too wary of him to get close.
“I think it'd be nice, staying in such a full house. I've never experienced what having siblings is like.”
"Ah, yes. Think it'll be real bondin' if we shovel cow manure t'gether!"
Vince laughs out loud, the worry from being away from his siblings for long slowly fading away. This boy—this sweet, quiet boy, really had an effect on Vince. Greyson was able to bring Vince back to normal even while they're talking about family.
A kind person, indeed. Vince would have to try his hardest to befriend Greyson.
"Reckon you'll have fun, though. 'll put you with sum' easier jobs, n' at the end, we could go do something' fun. Moms n' dads won't let you r' me leave without a fight."
A blush creeps up Vince's cheeks. There it is. He's lost his limits, and is inviting practically a stranger over to his house. What's up with me?! I can't be so bold alluva sudden!
"'Course, if 'ya want to, that is. N' even then, I'd like to get t' know 'ya sum' more."
“I'd have to convince Mother. But I would like that, even if just to get away from the Queendom for a while.” If one were to look close enough, a pink flush on the tips of Greyson's ears could be seen.
Easy to fluster under all the so-called aloofness. No one ever tries to approach them, and Vince might just be the first.
“You're sweet. Makes me unable to function properly. No one is ever this nice to me.”
Vince laughs heartily again, an amused glint in his eye. Greyson is oddly easy to read. When Vince first approached, he thought that Greyson would be one of the difficult, poker-face types. Turns out that he's just a bit shy.
"N' why would that be? You're adorable! Nevr' get people, really. Always judgin' for no reason."
Vince slaps Greyson's shoulder a few times, in a teasing, playful manner. He's grinning from ear to ear, happy that Greyson is happy and also so close to him.
"Thank's for the compliment, tho'. Most uvda kids here been screamin' 'm' stoic n' with a fragile ego' everywhere I look. Appreciate someone who can admit stuff jus' like that. "
Definitely shy, but definitely bold in his own ways. He can't seem to take gratitude properly, instead fidgeting with the hem of Vince's sleeve. He runs a finger up the length of the other boy's arm and then gives him a small smile.
“I'm adorable, huh? I think that might be a new word used to describe me. You're easy on the eyes too, Vince.”
Obvious? Yes. But Mother always said to go after the things he wants before they escape him.
And well...
Vince's eyebrows raises his eyebrows, scoffing.
"'Easy n' the eyes?' I've been called more uva hunk in my lifetime. But thank 'ya, Grey."
He looks down, watching Greyson's finger as it trails up his metal arm. He extends his fingers, showing the arm off a little bit.
"Does it look odd to 'ya, Grey? 'S a prosthetic arm, if 'ya couldn't tell. Got this while I was fulla bullshit. Still full bullshit now, but I can control myself. 'Nough."
Vince grabs one of his poor cigarettes, the newer one that Greyson gave him kicked to the curb long ago. He twists his finger, and a soft flame bursts from the tip of it, which he uses to heat up the front of the cigarette.
"Neat, ain't it? Put it there myself. 'M a bit of a metalworker, so t' speak. If 'ya ever need sumthin' metal done, don't be shy."
The way Greyson's pupils dilate at the sight of the flame is captivating, like gaining the trust of a reclusive creature enough for them to eat from your palm.
“...Yourself, huh? It suits you, makes you all the more charming, non?” He doesn't know why he slips into a different language, maybe it's from being in such proximity to Rook, or maybe his childhood lessons finally have reason to be used, but there are just some words that English doesn't contain to describe this.
“Une œuvre d'art. A work of art. Your arm, that is. Though that's not to say that you aren't also a work of art- Aïe, je suis en train de me creuser ma propre tombe.”
Grey goes silent, praying to the Seven to give him strength, and wills the warmth on his cheeks to retreat.
“What I mean to say is, your talent, precision, and dedication are works of art.”
Real smooth, Jude.
"Oh, 'd say that m' arm's a real piece of art, too. The rest 'f me, not so much. 'd like ta' say 'm a... more uva statue, maybe. R' someone on an emblem. R' on a coin."
Vince waves his hands around, being all showy in an exaggerated way to try and get this guy to laugh. He's not all that egoistical, so it's obvious that what he's saying is all just a joke. When Grey gives him a funny look, Vince can't help but burst into laughter all over again, slapping Grey on the back hard. Not enough to make a dent, but enough to make that cute pouting face again.
When Grey starts speaking French, though, Vince blanks, freezing in place.
"...Ah? What's up with the French? I don' speak a lick 'f French, 'll have 'ya know. Coulda' call'd me a slur, 'nd I'd have no clue!"
Vince snorts, grinning from ear to ear. It's true—he doesn't know not one bit of any other language besides the one he was born saying. The only French words he does know would be stuff like "oui oui" and "bonjour," and even then he would butcher them horribly (wei wei and bonejauhr).
"Care t' translate, 'r should I stay not knowin'? Could do that too, long as you pinky promise that ya' won't spew no shit 'bout me behind m' back."
“I said I was digging myself a grave. I'm not the best with words.” Grey smiles sheepishly, his earlier pout from when Vince slapped him on the back.
“You'd be able to tell if I was cussing you out in French, I promise.” His fingers twitch when he says that, like he's considering reaching up and playing with his earring again. It calmed him when he was embarrassed, though he's got not a clue why that's so.
“R’ ya’ sure ‘bout that? M’ not kiddin’ ‘round when I tell ‘ya that I don’t know nuthin’ ‘f French.”
Vince noticed Grey almost going to fiddle with his earring again, and decides to take a bold move and place his mechanical hand gently on top of Grey’s. He chuckles at the other boy’s sheepishness, winking at him as he speaks.
“Think ‘ur good with words, tho’. Ain’t have nobody call me a work ‘f art in this lifetime. N’ I don’t think nobody’ll ever tell me it like you did.”
So much care around the words. So much tenderness, even though they’re technically not even friends yet. Vince wonders why that is, but drops it after a few seconds of pondering. It’s probably just out of formality.
“How ‘bout you tell me ‘bout a curse word, so I can seem real cool when I cuss ‘em out usin’ sum French? Think ‘ll look badass?”
Greyson audibly squeaks when he feels Vince place a hand over his, face turning bright red once again. Well fuck.
“I think you'd only be impressive if you knew more than just a few curse words, but alright. Though in my opinion, the best insults are the ones you don't need to use swears.”
Vince laughs out loud at the squeak, but he makes sure that Greyson’s actually comfortable with what he’s doing. His eyes rake over Greyson’s form, deciding to keep his hand there and not push any further to see what else the other boy will do. For a minute, Vince wishes that he could get Grey’s flushed face on camera…
“Mmm… We’ll, if ‘ya think that way, then how ‘bout ya’ give me a real authentic French insult? One that’ll get someone’s boots shakin’, so I can tell it to ‘ur haters n’ have ‘em runnin’ for their lives?”
He snickers at the thought, but he’s not really kidding. If anyone was fucking around with Greyson, Vince would be very sure to give them a piece of his mind. It’s what friends do, of course.
Greyson had only been surprised, he truly didn't mind. He could also feel the way Vince's eyes traveled over him, almost shivering.
“Avoir le QI d’une huître. It means that to have the IQ of an oyster. One of my favorites, personally.” Grey smiles, a bright little thing that makes the world feel just a little bit brighter.
“There's also 'Con comme une valise sans poignée.' It means 'as stupid as a suitcase without a handle.'”
"A suitcase without no handle 's pretty stupid!"
Vince laughs, patting Grey on the back for the good insults. He tries to say the insult in French—"cone conmeh uhn valaisw sans po-ih-knee?"—but butchers it terribly and has to watch as Grey laughs in his face.
"Wha—hey! M' pronunciation ain't tha' bad! V' never dun this befor'!"
He's not offended by it, though. Vince laughs along with Grey, but pauses when he catches sight of that pretty smile. My, Sevens...
"Ya'know, after seein' it n' person, m' thinkin' you should smile a little more. Suits 'ya. Brings out yer eyes."
He takes out his phone, opening the camera app.
"Cm'ere. Lemme show ya'."
He puts them two into the frame, grinning wide.
“Your French isn't too bad for a beginner.” Greyson praises, only to blink in surprise when Vince takes out his phone.
He flushes at the compliment to his smile, but sheepishly looks towards the camera while placing a hand on Vince's shoulder.
For a moment, he looks a little hesitant to smile, but when he does it's just as sweet as the one he gave to Vince moments before.
"There 'ya go! D' ya see tha' cute thin'?"
Vince shows Greyson the photo, zooming into his face. Whether or not Greyson sees anything different in himself, it's clear that Vince sees a lot in him.
"'Dorable! Ya'd really be a hot shot, if ya did tha' 'round more people. Good thin' that ya' ain't, 'cause I kinda wanna keep tha' perfect smile all to m'self."
Vince sends the photo to his family group chat before putting the phone into his pocket. The action rides his pants down just a tad, but what's really curious is the white fur peeking underneath. He doesn't seem to realize this, nor the implications of what he just said.
"Do 'ya wanna pictura 'f me, too? 'Could pose all pretty fo' ya. Well—ima try m' best, that's fo' sure."
Greyson visible short circuits, face steadily turning as red as Riddle's hair. His heart is racing for reasons he can't identify properly, with the source of this reaction all coming from the boy seated next to him.
“I-” His throat feels dry. Why does it feel dry?
“You wouldn't have to pose, you're pretty as is.” He mutters, too flustered to notice the fur as he takes out his own phone cups Vince's face with his free hand.
It seems like he's perfectly fine with taking pictures with other people as long as he's not the main subject of it. He stares at the photo for a very long time, then pockets his phone after sending it to someone.
Who?
Who knows. There wasn't a contact name.
:)
Vince sticks out his tongue in an attempt to look silly, cheeks puffed out in a wide smile. When he's allowed to move again, he tries to look over, but Greyson doesn't let him since he doesn't want the other boy to see who he's sending it to.
"Wha—hey! Whos' that, eh? Ya' beter not be sendin' stuf t' sum rando who'll mock me fo' tha' arm o' mine!"
Vince pouts after realizing that he's really not going to be allowed to see who he's texting, but then his eyes light up when an idea crosses his mind.
"Ah! Didya want my magicam n' that number o' mine, Grey? M' happy t' give it t'ya! I post sum stuff n' there, f' ya'd like t' take a look!"
He looks excited to share it. Greyson can't say no to those puppy eyes.
“Simply a friend of mine. I keep forgetting to save her contact.” Either way, he nods when Greyson asks if he could share his socials.
“Oui, I want to keep in touch with you. It's too easy to lose people in this school.”
"Sure! Jus' type in 'ere 'V1nce.xz', n' it'll probably pop up!"
That's what Greyson starts with, typing the handle into magicam to find the account. When he clicks on the profile picture of a cat hiding in the bushes of a forest, he can already spot a picture from Vince at the gym peeking out from under his bio.
"I could type ma numba for ya, if ya'd like! Y' could put whateva profile picture ya' wanna on there! N' y' don' mind me taggin 'ya n' stuff, d'ya?"
Vince tilts his head, clearly oblivious to the thoughts running through Greyson's mind.
Greyson follows the account, immediately liking the most recent post.
“I don't post much on my account, aside from things I find while skipping. But I don't mind if you tag me. I'll put in your phone number too, just because.”
"Sure! Ima tag 'ya in a whole buncha stuff now, just 'cause 'ya said yes. Just for 'ya t' keep n' eye out."
Vince takes Greyson's phone, inputting the number and putting his name as "VINCE!!". He then sends a test text to himself (labeled as Testing!! Testing!! 123!) and then checks his own phone (responding with It worked!!)
"It worked!" Vince exclaims out loud, looking up from his phone.
"'ll be textin' ya 24/7, too. Any sorta pref as ta' what ya' want ur profile pic n' ur name ta' be?"
Vince hands Greyson the phone for him to input it himself.
“No preference. Though you can't go texting me at two in the morning now, or Vil will have my head for disturbing my roommates.” Grey teases as he inputs his phone number into Vince's phone (after double-checking it).
All he sent?
<3
"Awe, r' ya' serious 'bout that? two AM is prime time fo' textin' n' chattin'!"
He check his prone for the test text message, lighting up when he sees the heart.
"Tha's such a cute heart! 'Ur softer than I thought! D'ya text everyon' a heart, r' am I a special lil' fella?"
Vince chuckles, texting back a small emoticon: (*U*). He stares at his phone more, waiting for a new text to pop up from Greyson. He's liking this silent game. He thinks it's cute.
“It was the first thing I thought of...”
He replies to the emoticon with one of his one: (*´ω｀*)
“I don't text a lot, really. I forgot how much I liked emoticons.”
"Gahdayum, did 'ya make that? Tha's very creative, 'f I do say so m'self!"
Greyson fiddles with the keyboard, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tries to make one by himself. Greyson tries to speak, but Vince won't let him until he's conjured up the perfect kaomoji to use.
"Eh... ahah! 'Think I got it!"
He sends the one he made along with a few variations, grinning like a proud father when he finishes and sits back.
\ (// `u` //) /
\ (// `_` //) /
\ (// `0` //) /
\ (// `^` //) /
“Oh those are so cute. You're good at making kaomojis.” Greyson hearts all of the kaomojis Vince made, though the emoji he uses isn't a heart but rather a spiderweb...
Vince lets out a smug "hmph!" and tilts his chin up, proud. He loves to show off hone it comes to the people that he likes, and he loves even more to get praise for it.
"Thank 'ya! Ya can use 'em if ya... huh?"
Vince looks down at his phone, noticing that Greyson hearted all of the kaomojis with spiderwebs. He tilts his head, squinting to make sure that he was seeing right.
"'S thatta spiderweb?"
Vince looks back up, eyes filled with wonder.
"Wha' kinda reaction 's tha'? Means tha' ma lil' 'emojis r' old r' sumthin?"
“It's just something I do. I got bored of using normal hearts so I chose the spiderweb to be my personal version of a heart emoji. It works the same, I just prefer mine.” Admittedly, Greyson was a bit embarrassed about it. He chose it when he was younger, and it always just kind of stuck.
"N' folks still call 'ya intimidatin'? Ha!"
Vince laughs, abandoning his phone to reach out and pinch Greyson's cheeks. His touch is soft, but his hands are rough. Probably from days of working at the farm.
"What a cutie! Wouldda never thoughtta doin' somethin' so creative! How cute!"
Vince moves back, picking up his phone again. He taps his chin, scrolling through emojis until his eyes light up. He then proceeds to like all of Greyson's texts, but instead of a heart, it's a leaf.
"Whaddya think 'f that? Neat, eh? I take it from ya'!"
“I can be intimidating when I want to be...” It's a flimsy excuse, but not a lie. He's ruined people's lives before.
“Awh that's cute. A leaf suits you.”
His cheeks are sore from Vince's pinching, even a bit red, but that's more from being called cute rather than the pinching.
"Uhuh. Sure 'ya can. 'S a-okay if ur a lil shy, ya'know."
Vince chuckles, now pressing into Greyson fully. He's open for a hug, he very much wants a hug, but he also doesn't want to push Greyson.
"Did'ja really wanna come ofer ta' ma' farm? R' wassat all sum joke?"
He grins, placing his head on Greyson's shoulder.
"Would love it 'f ya came. But we only jus' met."
His eyes light up as a new idea dawns on him.
"Whaddya say ya ask me a few questions, eh? N' I do the same ta ya! How about 'ya start?"
Vince looks at Greyson expectantly, giving him no room to conplain.
Greyson huffs with mock offense and lets his head fall onto Vince's shoulder.
“I don't joke lightly about wanting to escape my mother. I'd love to visit.” He admits, already itching for another cigarette. He doesn't wait long before he's grabbing another from his box and lighting it.
“Me first? Okay. Who's your favorite Housewarden besides your own?”
"Fave housewarden? Ahh... Well, a do like Kalim a bunch! He's such a sweetie. Jamil's a lil more iffy ta' me."
Vince presses his cheek against Greyson's head. He thinks about what question he could ask for a few seconds, taking out another cigarette of his own and asking the question when he the smoke in his mouth caught with the air.
"Aha! Em... wha's tha' guilty preasure of yours? Hope 'm sayin' it right. Neva asked sumone before."
“Anything with white chocolate.” Greyson replies, then takes a drag from it. The taste lingers, like it usually does.
“Right back at you: what's your guilty pleasure?”
"Me? Ah... ah'd say... well."
Vince snorts, getting a little shy now. He usually doesn't reveal things like this right off the bat, but... oh, hell. Vince trusts Grey enough for this.
"Ya might find it stupid, but I do like ta' dance. Think I look like tha' dancin' type, Burt not fo' tha type dancing tha' I do. 'Cause I do pole dancin'."
He nudges Greyson playfully, winking.
"White chocolate's all? C'mon, Grey— ya ain't got nuthin more 'guilty' than tha'? Won't tell a soul, ya' know."
“Well I don't think chain smoking three packs a week is a guilty pleasure if I'm not guilty about it. I guess I really don't have anything.” Greyson tries not to think about the math of that.
He instead focuses on the part Vince said about pole-dancing, then immediately cuts that line of thought when it treads into 'i wouldn't mind watching him poledance' territory.
Vince's smile wavers a little. Three packs a week? Vince may smoke, but not three packs a week. He doesn't mention it yet, but he knows that at some point he's going to have to do something about it. Smoking that much at Greyson's age gets him nervous.
"Well, m' gonna need a lil more from ya. How 'bout... a secret? Here— 'll give ya mine first. Fair 'change."
Vince taps his chin, thinking about a good secret to give him.
"Ah. 've gotta good 'un. N' if ya come to da farm, ur gonna see 'em anyway."
Vince chuckles nervously, rolling his pant legs up to reveal white fur. His face turns a little redder as he speaks.
"Goat legs."
“Huh. Neat.” Greyson genuinely didn't care if Vince had goat legs, someone in Pomefiore was literally covered in scales because of a faulty transformation potion. And what was the point of being in a magical school if you didn't meet some strange people?
“A secret of mine? Hm...” Greyson takes another drag of his cigarette while he thinks, searching for anything that he might categorize as a secret.
Oh.
Well. There's that, of course.
But...
No, too soon.
“Not so much as a secret but it's something I'm ashamed of. I used to run with a pretty bad group in middle school and it got me sent to a juvenile detention center more than once.”
"Well, I'll be! Ya ain't so innocent as I thought, eh?" Vince laughed. He didn't look too fazed. He has met more than a few people who had done bad things in their lives and were trying to get better. He suspected that Greyson was the same way.
He could only hope, anyway.
"N' I suspect 'ur gettin' better, no? 'Cause 'ur real nice n' amazin'! M' enjoying' ma time wit ya!"
He winks, pulling down his pant leg. He doesn't feel so ashamed about his legs anymore. Not with the way Greyson reacted to them. He's glad that the other boy didn't find them weird like most do.
"How 'bout ya ask me sumthin' crazy now? Don' want ya ta think tha' I get all tha privilege in askin' personal stuff."
“Hm. What's the worse thing you've done to someone? If you can't think of anything, then what do you think is the worst?” Greyson didn't like how much faith Vince had in him. Would he still think the same after seeing the case files?
The sight of her still haunts his nightmares, he has a feeling that she'll never forgive him even when he's dead.
"Me? Ah... well, wouldn't call m'self a very bad guy. Most ah'd say is driven' summon ta madness with da way I get all competitive sumtimes," Vince chuckles. Him and his family aren't really ones to harm anybody; they've all been called sweethearts at least once in their lives. Except two people of the bunch, but even then they're trying to change.
A satanist and a cannibalist. An unhealthy duo.
"N' wha 'bout you? R' should I ask a differen' quest'n?"
Vince takes another smoke, looking at Greyson inquisitively. Maybe he did something bad in the juvenile detention of his. He wouldn't very much mind if it's in the past.
“I did something that hurt one of my friends and I still feel horrible about it. It was my idea, and I didn't think anyone would get hurt.” Blood. So much blood. He didn't know a person had that much in them.
Is it better or worse that he's glad it was her and not anyone else?
He looks one minute away from just shoving his cigarette into his mouth and eating it.
“Ah, don't tell anyone, but I'm still supposed to be serving time.”
Vince almost judges, but then he stops and rethinks. Judging? Really? In his predicament? No.
"I won' tell. An' if ya don' wanna tell what happen' tha' day either, tha's a-okay. But jus' kno' tha you n' I, well, we're in tha same situation. So if 'ya ever wanna tell me 'bout tha, I could tell ya bout my siblings Marcy n Ophelia."
He smiles, trying to lighten the mood.
"How 'bout we move to sumthin a lil lighter? Like, eh... ah—HAH! Like crushes! Ya have a crush? R' do ya kno' bout any drama round here?"
“I don't have a crush on anyone, but for drama? I hear that there's a student in Diasomnia who is the reason for all of the strange white flowers popping up around campus.”
"Eh? Do ya know who tha student is? R do I gotta pay a fee ta kno'?"
Vince giggles, ruffling Greyson's hair as an excuse to get to touch him more. Vince had never really had a crush before, more prone to feeling familial things than anything else. But now, with this sweet, broken boy...
He didn't want to get too into it.
"I'm funny, ain't I? Say m' funny, R' I'll get Riddle ta chop ur head off," he teases.
“Well you're funnier than everyone in Pomefiore, I'll give you that. I don't know who the student is, I've just seen him around one of the third years. Uh, red hair, green eyes, really likes roses. I think his name is Briar. They're.. kind of weird.”
"Weird how?" Vince asks, tilting his head.
"'Cause ah'd say tha' we're weird, too. Is it like tha'? R' sumthin' different?"
He tilts his head, reaching out and snatching another fancy cigarette from Greyson. He chuckles, lighting the front with his mechanical finger like he had shown before. He then opens a hidden pocket in his arm, taking out two chocolate bites.
"Want? It ain't white. N' I've got otha stuff, 'f ya want. Jus' take a peek in ther'."
“Nah, I'll pass. I'm not really craving anything sweet right now.” Greyson tries to think of a more appropriate word for the two he's describing.
“Well the Diasomnia student doesn't... Well to put it plainly, he looks like he should be dead. One time I think I saw him remove his entire arm. For my upperclassman... I don't know. Something about his rose garden feels weird.”
Well, this didn't really go the direction he wanted it to, did it? He tried to lighten the mood, and now it's become even darker. He feels like an idiot.
"Tha's pretty wild. Neva knew of sumone who could do tha before."
Vince chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He hopes that Greyson will ask him a question, because he doesn't think that asking him so many things at a time is very appropriate. What else can he comment on? Think, think...
“Sorry, I'm bad at keeping things light. Uhm... What's your favorite cafe? Maybe we can go there sometime, my treat.” Greyson could really go for an iced caramel macchiato, especially with the weather warming up.
"Favorite cafe? Ta be hones', I don' usually go. How 'bout ya tell me urs? R we could even go there', if we're able ta."
After a second, he adds quickly:
"Only if ya wanna! 'S of course ur decisi'n! I don' mean ta be so forward 'bout these things. M' sorry."
Vince rubs his hand over his arm a few times. He hopes that Greyson isn't getting weirded out because of how forward he keeps being. But then again, going right about now to a cafe sounds like a good idea... to drink a smoothie from the same straw like 1980s rom-coms...
Sevens, what is he thinking?!
“There's this one in town I really like. They have these amazing pastries made with actual vanilla filling in them.” Grey's face practically lights up as he describes them, but uh... (Un)fortunately for Vince, Greyson doesn't seem to notice just how forward Vince is being.
Oof.
Greyson though, they were just happy to have a friend.
"Would ya maybe wanna go ther' right 'bout now? Would love ta try un!"
Vince smiles, already gathering his things to leave. If Vince knew Greyson even a little, he could already tell that someone like him would know the best way to sneak out of school. He's done it a few times himself, but maybe learning from a true expert would prove him well. Most of the times that he's done it, he's gone straight to detention.
"Promise tha' I won' let us get caught," he winks.
“Sure, why not. I've got my wallet on me anyway.” Greyson snuffs out his cigarette and tucks it back into the box, then stands up to stretch. His back cracks audibly in several different places, and they sigh while slumping just a tad.
“You promise? Well, then don't go breaking it. I don't like people who break promises.” It's lighthearted, paired with a smile, but Greyson knows just how hypocritical he was being by saying that.
"Ima be payin', thank ya very much. 've got more money than I need," Vince huffs, standing up with Greyson. He leads the way to the area that would take them out of the school grounds, smiling at the teasing quip.
"Don' plan on it, a' least—ain't mean tha' it might happen. Seein' tha' ya got outta tha' prison, I'm thinkin' tha you've got a lotta practice in this, so we should be fine."
He climbs onto the top fence, climbing it and lending Greyson a hand when he reaches the top.
"Ur scrawny, but I believe in 'ya!"
Scrawny? A rare bit of competitiveness blooms in Greyson as he grasps the fence and heaves himself over it with ease.
“Scrawny, eh?” He parrots, a grin on his face.
"Wha—EY! Ya ain't supposed ta do tha'!" Vince huffs, but he's laughing. He jumps a mediocre distance from the fence to the floor, turning back to Greyson and holding out his arms.
"'ll catch ya', ya devious princess!" He exclaims, laughing out loud. He hasn't had this much fun without his siblings for a while now.
"N' hurry, 'else the police 's gonna catch 'ya! Tha' of which bein' Vil 'n Rook!"
A ploy: mention his worst nightmares to make him pressured into making his decision faster.
Greyson huffs, then lets go of the fence with full trust that Vince will actually catch him. He's never escaped campus before, he'll certainly have to hell to pay later, but for now he'll enjoy this.
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
[He stares at Nick, surprised clearly at the quick whirl of movements. Kit will neither confirm nor deny whether seeing Nick on one knee apologizing like so made him slightly blush. He shook his head, dropping to one knee too and gently placing a hand on Nick’s.]
“Don’t apologize, Kitty… I ain’t mad, this isn’t your fault.”
“I still broke it.” Nicholas lets go of Kit's hand to hug them again, definitely not willing to let go of his only friend.
“You're my only friend. If I can't keep a simple promise like promising to not leave because I let myself get transported to the Victorian era, then what kind of friend am I.”
[Kit is a little bit disoriented with all the movement directed towards him so quickly, awkwardly hugging Nick back.]
“I-I guess but this isn’t just something that happens everyday, it was just bad luck so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Nicholas looks up at Kit with the biggest, saddest pout ever. Poor guy is genuinely distraught.
He looks just like a kicked kitten, truly fitting the nickname Kit gave him.
[Kit sighs and cups his friend’s face, expression changing and now speaking sternly.]
“Nicholas. Stop blaming yourself for this. It is not your fault, okay.”
“I myself told you it was okay. Okay?”
[He lets go and runs a hand through his hair.]
“Alright now, Kitty? You’re really fitting your nickname right about now, yknow.”
Nicholas still didn't look entirely convinced, but eventually nodded.
“Okay. Okay, okay, I got it. No more blaming myself.”
He's still kneeling on the ground, then eventually stands right back up when he remembers the role he's playing here. He clears his throat and dusts off his slacks.
“When did you get dragged here?”
Woe Pokemon be upon ye (with some extra notes here and there)
Malcolm: Immediately off the bat I was torn between Ursaring or Dartrix/Decidueye, but eventually after rereading his profile a few times I figured that Dartrix or Decidueye (specifically" standard, not Hisuian) would be the better pick. Sometimes I like pretty obvious picks, ngl, but I think it helps to also be an aura farming bird, esp when I noticed that he doesn't seem to like the fur coat being mentioned.
Pyotr: Reading the profile the first time, I knew a dark type would be perfect. I'm not super familiar with Anastasia (been close to over a decade since I last recall watching it) but on a brief skim of the synopsis too, I landed on Zoroark in particular. It's a cheeky shapeshifter, but they also use their illusions to protect their own and deter opponents, which I thought would be fitting based on the vibes I got from everything.
Hermes: Took me a bit to figure something to land on, simply because a bunch of ideas spawned for all kinds of reasons. Speed was the big key word that appeared in my brain first, until I realized that flight, mischief, etc would... probably also be important too lmao. I picked Talonflame, since it actually fits most of those (including mischief, when I remember how Gale Wings had to be nerfed after Gen 6 😭). I also think with it being a bright orange/red color, it gives that nice vibrant flair that a god should absolutely have.
Greyson: Trevenant kinda the obvious pick, BUT I actually think Phantump would work a little bit better for him! Haunted little forest creature that looks cute, but Evolves into something quite the opposite that Will Kill You if you threaten the forest. I did briefly consider Nuzleaf/Shiftry because the description of his UM really gave me "dark type" vibes, but overall I think im just gonna stick to my pick of Phantump.
Skylar: Dragalge is kind of the perfect pick for him in my brain, not just because it has those ties to the ocean (being a poison/dragon type that evolves from a water type), but i think a lot of its dex entries paint it as far more terrifying than it may act in reality. It's also a very elegant-looking Pokémon, though, which I think is also fitting for someone like Skylar.
Nicholas: you might be pleased to know that I actually didnt go for the obvious pick on this guy. I like going for more "obvious" picks sometimes, but I wanted to try and look a little deeper and not just say Crobat for Nicholas. So instead, after thinking for a few minutes, I decided that Malamar would be a suitable pick. It's long, imposing, and has the ability to control other people if it so desires, even if it might choose not to. It's a perfect fit imo for someone who is also tall, imposing, and capable of controlling people /lh
Yukihiko: Okay so I know nothing abt ur BSD OC, so I was kinda just going on vibes, but Inteleon, Armarouge, and Incineroar in particular seemed like decent picks. The first two are more for the guns thing, whereas I picked Incineroar more for its color palette (black/red, shiny is white/red). Sorry this one is a little more lackluster, but I think that if I knew more these picks might still linger at least?
Fannar: Since he's based on Elsa, I only had to narrow my search to ice-types. Which doesn't make it easier by any means bc i still had to decide a fitting one but eventually I landed on Alolan Ninetales. It's a graceful, elegant, and powerful ice-type that will guide people who need help, but can also be relentless towards those that anger it.
Feofan: If Pantalone were a pokemon hed be a gimmighoul. Jokes aside, I actually think your interpretation would be more fitting for Persian, a pokemon of luxury and wealth (and also perfect for petting while pretending to be a James Bond villain. Shoutout to Giovanni of Team Rocket for that.), but also one that, while it can be feisty, also probably isn't always the best suited for battle with its stats and typing.
I hope all of these picks are at least kinda good 😭 i rly do try to put at least a little bit of thought into these, even when I go for the more obvious picks so hopefully you enjoy these picks
OH MY GODS
Okay when I asked for a list of Pokemon I was maybe expecting just the names and a short summary, NOT A FULL ON PARAGRAPH FOR EACH /pos
OUghhhhhhhh /pos
Even though you know nothing of Yukihiko, you got him spot on too. I actually love all of the choices you picked and the thought you put behind each of them, especially Nicholas. The fact that you didn't go for the obvious choice for him really makes me happy I'm actually so happy with these picks
finding pomefiore's resident disappointment
Greyson massaged the bridge of his nose as he slipped out of history class as soon as Professor Trein turned his back, footsteps light and quick as he retreated to his favorite spot in the courtyard. He sat down on a bench and pulled out his box of cigarettes, lighting one with a bit of magic and taking a long drag from it.
“Fucking finally.. I've been craving a smoke all day.” He mutters to himself, smoke drifting past his lips and curling into the air.
He thinks he's alone. But is he truly?
He's only halfway done with his cigarette when he hears the crunching of grass under shoes, and whips his head around, his void-like eyes wide with panic. He's absolutely dead if it's Vil or Rook who caught him, and even deader if Trein found him out here.
HURTS THE LUNGS, HURTS THE SOUL.
Vicente Cabro isn't well-known, but he isn't unknown, either. He's somewhere in the middle, and while he knows many people, he doesn't have a lot of them that he can call friends. Who knows— maybe Greyson Jude will be the one to become one of the rare people Vince calls a true friend. Maybe someone who isn't afraid to defy the rules is just what he needs.
Vince needs a break. He's only been in Night Raven College for a few months, and already he's getting overstimulated. He's never been away from his siblings for so long, the most being a day or two when he's out doing things. The absence of their chattering voices is jarring for him, and history class isn't really doing it for him when it comes to listening the growing ache in his heart. Stepping out of that stuffy classroom buzzing with energy and getting some fresh air for a few minutes is exactly what he needs right now.
Except the air isn't all that fresh. It's laced with smoke, something Vince can sense from a mile away. He's not unfamiliar with the smell—in fact, he even brought outside a pack of his own cigarettes, ready to use them to blow off some steam. Is there already someone smoking out here?
He steps forward, the grass beneath him shifting to hold his weight. When he gets closer, he tilts his head, recognizing their uniform. A Pomefiore student. And a young one, at that—a first year like him, maybe? Vince doesn't see many first years smoking like he does. This is new. And very welcome.
Vince comes closer, ready to join the other boy on the bench if he'd allow it, but he freezes when he whips his head around. He hadn't thought that he would scare the poor Pomefiore so badly.
"Ah... didn' mean t' startle ya', man. M' here for the same reason you are, if 'm bein' frank."
He takes out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, jostling them while his other hand moves to rub the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture.
"Do ya' mind if I sit next t' ya'? M' not a tattletale or anythin', I swear."
Hello, @preservedfrostbite!! I've been lurking around your blog for a little bit ever since @winterwhxspers told me about the roleplay that you're doing with your vampire OC, and I thought that you were super super cool!! I hope you don't mind me starting this roleplay with you, and, if you're up for it, I'd really like to get to know you more and be roleplay friends!!
Greyson looks at Vince for a moment, his black almost soulless eyes seeming to pierce through Vince's very being, then he pats the spot beside him invitingly.
“You're in my class, aren't you? T'be honest, I didn't think anyone else would come out to escape from Trein's bullshit.” Grey mumbles around his cigarette, digging in his pockets for a moment and pulling out a lighter that he offers to Vince. They can just use magic, sure, but there was something nostalgic about using an ordinary lighter.
Well, as ordinary as a custom-made lighter could get. The mirror and forest motifs, alongside Greyson's name scrawled in cursive, is a dead giveaway that he has money or at least comes from it.
“You scared the shit out of me, coming up behind me like that. I thought it was Vil or Rook or Trein coming to rip me a new one.”
"Ah—that's right, ain't it? You n' I are in the same class. Well, M' sorry for scarin' ya' like that either way. Just wanted t' have a friendly smoke—I don' see many first-years willin' t' do that with me."
Vince takes his seat a comfortable distance away from Greyson, leaning his arm against the side of the bench. He takes one of his cigarettes out, murmuring a small "thank you" when the other boy hands him the lighter.
"Unless ya' ain't willin', which in that case, I'd be makin' a fool outta myself right now. M' pretty experienced in that... locale."
Vince turns the lighter over in his hands, reading the word engraved off to the side.
"Doesn't look like any regular lighter I've seen. N' those cigarettes, too—look like they come from 'n expensive brand, why don't they. D' ya' think they feel any different to smoke, at the end?"
He chuckles, lighting up his cigarette and handing the lighter back. He takes a puff, giving the smoke a minute to properly mix with he air before he asks another question.
"Care to tell me who Greyson is?"
“That'd be me. Greyson Jude, but people usually just call me Grey.”
“There's probably not much of a difference, but you can try one of mine if you'd like.” He offers, taking the lighter back and pocketing it before blowing smoke out into the air.
“I don't mind hanging out with someone while I smoke, it's just that there aren't many first years willing to. And what about you, hm? I don't think I remember Trein calling your name out during attendance.”
"I see. Grey it is, then. Nice t' meetcha, Grey."
Vince takes the offered cigarette gingerly, lighting it with the other cigarette he has on hand.
"Feel like 'm in the presence 'f riches, I do. Like 'm some poor weasel on the side 'f the road that's gettin' a whiff of the way the wealthy do it. Reckon 'm feelin' right?"
He smiles at his analogy, taking a whiff from this cigarette.
"Flows a little better, that's for sure. But at the end 'f the day, the relief is all the same. Thanks for letting' me try em' out, though."
Vince tilts his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles wistfully. It's not a surprise to him that this Greyson stranger didn't catch his name right off the bat—it's near-missable, unless you're actually looking out for it. Vince won't admit it out loud, but the other boy does look like the type to fully disregard anyone who won't give him something.
Maybe this exchange is different. Or maybe he's the victim.
"Name's Vicente Cabro, but everyone calls me Vince. Don't blame ya' for not recognizing it right off the bat. A pretty ordinary name, that one."
Vince offers his own cigarette box to him, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
"Any chance you wanna take a look at life over on the poor side? Give 'ya some humility, won't it."
“Eh, why the hell not?” It was only fair, right? Truthfully he does feel bad for not catching the other boy's name, but it was only because he's running on three hours of sleep and an iced coffee.
“Vince, hm? I wouldn't call it ordinary, if anything I think Greyson is more common, but it's a pleasure to meet you as well.” He hums with consideration after getting a whiff of the other's cig.
“There's definitely a difference, but like you said before: they bring the same kind of relief.”
Vince nods, stretching out his arm on the bench's back. His fingers brush Greyson's blazer, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Right they do," he says simply, nodding as he brings the fancy cigarette up to his lips again. He looks back at the other boy, noticing the details in his uniform: the beret-like hat on his head, the accent necklaces, the earrings that are something new compared to what students at Night Raven College usually wear. It's cute, he thinks.
"I like what y' did with the outfit, by the way. Added 'ur own personal touch. That's nice."
He tips his cigarette over the bench, dusting some of the charcoal-dark particles off with his finger.
"What brings y' here, Grey? Something deep? R' just takin' a rest?"
“Thanks. I just thought it might be a nice way to make myself stand out a bit. Wearing uniforms takes away some of that self-expression.” Grey fidgets with one of the dangly earrings he has, one that's shaped like an arrowhead on a chain.
“It's just a certain smell in Trein's room that gives me a migraine, I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. And plus, I haven't had a smoke today until now. I just needed a break. You too, I'm guessing?”
"More 'r less."
Vince smiles faintly, but his eyes don't look like they're present in the conversation.
"'S hard for me to stay away from m' family for so long. I've been w' them for ages. I jus' got particularly overwhelmed today."
He watches Grey fidget with the earring, noticing that he might be uncomfortable. He hesitates before speaking his next words, voice careful.
"You wanna tell me how you got to this school? This college? Only if you wanna, of course."
He's praying to the sevens that Grey isn't uncomfortable with him. He's missed domestic stuff like this.
“To settle down, mostly. My mother travels for work and I never had the time to make real friends, plus I had several behavioral issues that often got me in trouble. I love my mother, I truly do, but sometimes it feels like she cares more about her job than me.” Greyson leans a bit into Vince, half-resting against the other boy's shoulder and throwing any worry of him being uncomfortable out of a metaphorical window.
“I'm honestly not all too sure what I want to do with my life. I believe my mother is some sort of... travel agent? I don't know. Last I checked, she was in Briar Valley and heading to the Coral Sea.”
Vince watches as Greyson leans in, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting this from the other boy, but, like everything, it's welcome with open arms.
Vince is a touchy person, and not having affection for months on end can make a touchy person go crazy. He used to get satiated easily, getting in a cuddle pile with his parents and siblings and watching a movie and play-fighting with them and sticking by their side. But now, this—barely a graze, an unconscious movement—is all the touch he can get anymore. It drives Vince mad, but he doesn't want to make a move and scare the poor boy. He... looses track of his limits sometimes, especially with unfamiliar things (or people).
"I understan' the feeling," Vince nods. "My parents used t' do the same thing, but t' a... more brash extent. But now I got brought into a lovin' family, n' I would never change 'em for anythin' else. Thing's get better, Grey. You can hold me t' it."
Vince looks down at his free palm, opening and closing it a few times. He pretends to do a cool magic spell, whacking it round and round as if he's doing something really powerful.
"Don' even have my UM yet. I wish, though."
His palm drops back to his lap.
"You have 'ur UM yet, Grey? Haven' seen one 'n action yet, so maybe 'd get 'ta know a thing r' two with 'urs."
“...I have mine, but it's not exactly... It's not something I'd want to use on a friend. It's invasive, I only ever use it if I really need to.” Greyson never received much affection during his childhood, and yet Vince.. This boy, this stranger he's just met.. Why was it so easy to tell him everything? It was almost baffling.
“I'm glad you have a better family, at the very least. It must be nice, having siblings. As far as I know, my closest relative is my grandmother, and I'm quite sick of hearing her preach about gender comformity.”
He laughs, but it's a little bitter. The Pomefiore student hides his wistful look behind another drag of his cigarette, which was already becoming a stub from use over time.
“I don't really think seeing people's deepest fears is someone I'd want to be known for, but it's not something I can really keep quiet for long.”
"Gender conformity? 'R ya' genderqueer, perchance? R' is it jus' because ya' dress a little feminin'?"
Vince takes a drag with him, the smoke from the two cigarettes hesitating before twisting and blending into each other. It's almost poetic.
"I don' care 'bout gender nonsense, don' get me wrong. I jus' wanna know what t' refer t' you by. Better t' tell me sooner than later, 'cause then I keep slippin' up."
Vince decides to be a little daring and press against Greyson's shoulder. Now, instead of a light graze, they're pressing into each other, however softly.
"Y' can see people's deepest fears? My, that's something', ain't it? Emotional UM's have alway's been m' preference compared t' physical ones. If y' eva' go haywire n' decide t' use it on me, I think I'd trust ya' w' the result. Ya' hear?"
“I might be genderqueer? Honestly, I have no clue. I just like to dress cute. And if cute means being a bit effeminate, then I guess that's what I'm rocking with. I do use masculine pronouns, maybe they/them too? I haven't really questioned it much. I just like what I like.” Grey shrugs, smile a little brighter now. His head is almost entirely resting on Vince's shoulder now. He always gets sleepy when he smokes, like it was some kind of curse for having a nicotine addiction.
“So that's your preference.. Well, your trust isn't misplaced, at the very least. Unless you decide to throw me in a fountain or something. I'm a little bit petty like that.”
"Well, you'll be happy t' kno' that I won't be throwin' anybody in any fountains anytime soon. That, you can count 'n"
Vince chuckles, letting Grey rest on his shoulder all he wants. He's itching to get closer, longing to get the affection he heeds. But he's able to controls himself and take another puff instead.
"How 'bout I use they/them on you from now on? So y' can see when one y' like better?"
Don't get ahead of 'urself, Vince. He don't mean anythin' by this. Stay calm.
"N' for me, you can use sum' usual he/him, by the way. To let 'ya know."
His fingers curl tighter around the cigarette.
“Mkay. I think I like that, using both. He and they. Feels right.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette, then snuffs it out and puts it back in the box so he's not littering.
“Glad to know that I won't be expecting any surprise baths from you, at least.”
"He n' they it is."
A comfortable silence wraps around the two boys. Or, comfortable for Greyson, at least—Vince is internally panicking, scrambling to find something else to talk about. He's usually good at this. Why can't he be good at this right now?
"Ya' told me a bit 'bout your home life, so 'll tell you 'bout mine 'n return," he blurts a little faster than usual. A weak conversation starter in the sense that it's obvious, but a conversation starter nonetheless.
"'M adopted. Grew up young n' a shit family, not very important. Got adopted by m' momma n' my mom n' my papa n' my dad when I was twelve. Ya' heard right: four. 'S a polycule, n' they adopted four children n' had five t' go with 'em. M' the seventh r' eighth, pretty sure."
Vince chuckles, ruffling Greyson's hair lightly as a thought occurs to him.
"If ya' ever wanna break from break from ur' momma, I'd be glad t' share one of mine. Y' can come over to my house, so long as y' don' mind doin' dirty work. 'Cause we live at a farm."
His beret is displaced by the ruffling, and he gives Vince a pout as he fixes it back into place. He looks contemplative for a moment, his hand going back up to fidget with that same earring, then hums. Not a response, but a consideration.
“I'm not one to shy away from dirty work, but I'll warn you now that I burn like dry grass in a heatwave.” It's a kind offer, one that he's never been given before. Usually people were too wary of him to get close.
“I think it'd be nice, staying in such a full house. I've never experienced what having siblings is like.”
"Ah, yes. Think it'll be real bondin' if we shovel cow manure t'gether!"
Vince laughs out loud, the worry from being away from his siblings for long slowly fading away. This boy—this sweet, quiet boy, really had an effect on Vince. Greyson was able to bring Vince back to normal even while they're talking about family.
A kind person, indeed. Vince would have to try his hardest to befriend Greyson.
"Reckon you'll have fun, though. 'll put you with sum' easier jobs, n' at the end, we could go do something' fun. Moms n' dads won't let you r' me leave without a fight."
A blush creeps up Vince's cheeks. There it is. He's lost his limits, and is inviting practically a stranger over to his house. What's up with me?! I can't be so bold alluva sudden!
"'Course, if 'ya want to, that is. N' even then, I'd like to get t' know 'ya sum' more."
“I'd have to convince Mother. But I would like that, even if just to get away from the Queendom for a while.” If one were to look close enough, a pink flush on the tips of Greyson's ears could be seen.
Easy to fluster under all the so-called aloofness. No one ever tries to approach them, and Vince might just be the first.
“You're sweet. Makes me unable to function properly. No one is ever this nice to me.”
Vince laughs heartily again, an amused glint in his eye. Greyson is oddly easy to read. When Vince first approached, he thought that Greyson would be one of the difficult, poker-face types. Turns out that he's just a bit shy.
"N' why would that be? You're adorable! Nevr' get people, really. Always judgin' for no reason."
Vince slaps Greyson's shoulder a few times, in a teasing, playful manner. He's grinning from ear to ear, happy that Greyson is happy and also so close to him.
"Thank's for the compliment, tho'. Most uvda kids here been screamin' 'm' stoic n' with a fragile ego' everywhere I look. Appreciate someone who can admit stuff jus' like that. "
Definitely shy, but definitely bold in his own ways. He can't seem to take gratitude properly, instead fidgeting with the hem of Vince's sleeve. He runs a finger up the length of the other boy's arm and then gives him a small smile.
“I'm adorable, huh? I think that might be a new word used to describe me. You're easy on the eyes too, Vince.”
Obvious? Yes. But Mother always said to go after the things he wants before they escape him.
And well...
Vince's eyebrows raises his eyebrows, scoffing.
"'Easy n' the eyes?' I've been called more uva hunk in my lifetime. But thank 'ya, Grey."
He looks down, watching Greyson's finger as it trails up his metal arm. He extends his fingers, showing the arm off a little bit.
"Does it look odd to 'ya, Grey? 'S a prosthetic arm, if 'ya couldn't tell. Got this while I was fulla bullshit. Still full bullshit now, but I can control myself. 'Nough."
Vince grabs one of his poor cigarettes, the newer one that Greyson gave him kicked to the curb long ago. He twists his finger, and a soft flame bursts from the tip of it, which he uses to heat up the front of the cigarette.
"Neat, ain't it? Put it there myself. 'M a bit of a metalworker, so t' speak. If 'ya ever need sumthin' metal done, don't be shy."
The way Greyson's pupils dilate at the sight of the flame is captivating, like gaining the trust of a reclusive creature enough for them to eat from your palm.
“...Yourself, huh? It suits you, makes you all the more charming, non?” He doesn't know why he slips into a different language, maybe it's from being in such proximity to Rook, or maybe his childhood lessons finally have reason to be used, but there are just some words that English doesn't contain to describe this.
“Une œuvre d'art. A work of art. Your arm, that is. Though that's not to say that you aren't also a work of art- Aïe, je suis en train de me creuser ma propre tombe.”
Grey goes silent, praying to the Seven to give him strength, and wills the warmth on his cheeks to retreat.
“What I mean to say is, your talent, precision, and dedication are works of art.”
Real smooth, Jude.
"Oh, 'd say that m' arm's a real piece of art, too. The rest 'f me, not so much. 'd like ta' say 'm a... more uva statue, maybe. R' someone on an emblem. R' on a coin."
Vince waves his hands around, being all showy in an exaggerated way to try and get this guy to laugh. He's not all that egoistical, so it's obvious that what he's saying is all just a joke. When Grey gives him a funny look, Vince can't help but burst into laughter all over again, slapping Grey on the back hard. Not enough to make a dent, but enough to make that cute pouting face again.
When Grey starts speaking French, though, Vince blanks, freezing in place.
"...Ah? What's up with the French? I don' speak a lick 'f French, 'll have 'ya know. Coulda' call'd me a slur, 'nd I'd have no clue!"
Vince snorts, grinning from ear to ear. It's true—he doesn't know not one bit of any other language besides the one he was born saying. The only French words he does know would be stuff like "oui oui" and "bonjour," and even then he would butcher them horribly (wei wei and bonejauhr).
"Care t' translate, 'r should I stay not knowin'? Could do that too, long as you pinky promise that ya' won't spew no shit 'bout me behind m' back."
“I said I was digging myself a grave. I'm not the best with words.” Grey smiles sheepishly, his earlier pout from when Vince slapped him on the back.
“You'd be able to tell if I was cussing you out in French, I promise.” His fingers twitch when he says that, like he's considering reaching up and playing with his earring again. It calmed him when he was embarrassed, though he's got not a clue why that's so.
“R’ ya’ sure ‘bout that? M’ not kiddin’ ‘round when I tell ‘ya that I don’t know nuthin’ ‘f French.”
Vince noticed Grey almost going to fiddle with his earring again, and decides to take a bold move and place his mechanical hand gently on top of Grey’s. He chuckles at the other boy’s sheepishness, winking at him as he speaks.
“Think ‘ur good with words, tho’. Ain’t have nobody call me a work ‘f art in this lifetime. N’ I don’t think nobody’ll ever tell me it like you did.”
So much care around the words. So much tenderness, even though they’re technically not even friends yet. Vince wonders why that is, but drops it after a few seconds of pondering. It’s probably just out of formality.
“How ‘bout you tell me ‘bout a curse word, so I can seem real cool when I cuss ‘em out usin’ sum French? Think ‘ll look badass?”
Greyson audibly squeaks when he feels Vince place a hand over his, face turning bright red once again. Well fuck.
“I think you'd only be impressive if you knew more than just a few curse words, but alright. Though in my opinion, the best insults are the ones you don't need to use swears.”
Vince laughs out loud at the squeak, but he makes sure that Greyson’s actually comfortable with what he’s doing. His eyes rake over Greyson’s form, deciding to keep his hand there and not push any further to see what else the other boy will do. For a minute, Vince wishes that he could get Grey’s flushed face on camera…
“Mmm… We’ll, if ‘ya think that way, then how ‘bout ya’ give me a real authentic French insult? One that’ll get someone’s boots shakin’, so I can tell it to ‘ur haters n’ have ‘em runnin’ for their lives?”
He snickers at the thought, but he’s not really kidding. If anyone was fucking around with Greyson, Vince would be very sure to give them a piece of his mind. It’s what friends do, of course.
Greyson had only been surprised, he truly didn't mind. He could also feel the way Vince's eyes traveled over him, almost shivering.
“Avoir le QI d’une huître. It means that to have the IQ of an oyster. One of my favorites, personally.” Grey smiles, a bright little thing that makes the world feel just a little bit brighter.
“There's also 'Con comme une valise sans poignée.' It means 'as stupid as a suitcase without a handle.'”
"A suitcase without no handle 's pretty stupid!"
Vince laughs, patting Grey on the back for the good insults. He tries to say the insult in French—"cone conmeh uhn valaisw sans po-ih-knee?"—but butchers it terribly and has to watch as Grey laughs in his face.
"Wha—hey! M' pronunciation ain't tha' bad! V' never dun this befor'!"
He's not offended by it, though. Vince laughs along with Grey, but pauses when he catches sight of that pretty smile. My, Sevens...
"Ya'know, after seein' it n' person, m' thinkin' you should smile a little more. Suits 'ya. Brings out yer eyes."
He takes out his phone, opening the camera app.
"Cm'ere. Lemme show ya'."
He puts them two into the frame, grinning wide.
“Your French isn't too bad for a beginner.” Greyson praises, only to blink in surprise when Vince takes out his phone.
He flushes at the compliment to his smile, but sheepishly looks towards the camera while placing a hand on Vince's shoulder.
For a moment, he looks a little hesitant to smile, but when he does it's just as sweet as the one he gave to Vince moments before.
"There 'ya go! D' ya see tha' cute thin'?"
Vince shows Greyson the photo, zooming into his face. Whether or not Greyson sees anything different in himself, it's clear that Vince sees a lot in him.
"'Dorable! Ya'd really be a hot shot, if ya did tha' 'round more people. Good thin' that ya' ain't, 'cause I kinda wanna keep tha' perfect smile all to m'self."
Vince sends the photo to his family group chat before putting the phone into his pocket. The action rides his pants down just a tad, but what's really curious is the white fur peeking underneath. He doesn't seem to realize this, nor the implications of what he just said.
"Do 'ya wanna pictura 'f me, too? 'Could pose all pretty fo' ya. Well—ima try m' best, that's fo' sure."
Greyson visible short circuits, face steadily turning as red as Riddle's hair. His heart is racing for reasons he can't identify properly, with the source of this reaction all coming from the boy seated next to him.
“I-” His throat feels dry. Why does it feel dry?
“You wouldn't have to pose, you're pretty as is.” He mutters, too flustered to notice the fur as he takes out his own phone cups Vince's face with his free hand.
It seems like he's perfectly fine with taking pictures with other people as long as he's not the main subject of it. He stares at the photo for a very long time, then pockets his phone after sending it to someone.
Who?
Who knows. There wasn't a contact name.
:)
Vince sticks out his tongue in an attempt to look silly, cheeks puffed out in a wide smile. When he's allowed to move again, he tries to look over, but Greyson doesn't let him since he doesn't want the other boy to see who he's sending it to.
"Wha—hey! Whos' that, eh? Ya' beter not be sendin' stuf t' sum rando who'll mock me fo' tha' arm o' mine!"
Vince pouts after realizing that he's really not going to be allowed to see who he's texting, but then his eyes light up when an idea crosses his mind.
"Ah! Didya want my magicam n' that number o' mine, Grey? M' happy t' give it t'ya! I post sum stuff n' there, f' ya'd like t' take a look!"
He looks excited to share it. Greyson can't say no to those puppy eyes.
“Simply a friend of mine. I keep forgetting to save her contact.” Either way, he nods when Greyson asks if he could share his socials.
“Oui, I want to keep in touch with you. It's too easy to lose people in this school.”
"Sure! Jus' type in 'ere 'V1nce.xz', n' it'll probably pop up!"
That's what Greyson starts with, typing the handle into magicam to find the account. When he clicks on the profile picture of a cat hiding in the bushes of a forest, he can already spot a picture from Vince at the gym peeking out from under his bio.
"I could type ma numba for ya, if ya'd like! Y' could put whateva profile picture ya' wanna on there! N' y' don' mind me taggin 'ya n' stuff, d'ya?"
Vince tilts his head, clearly oblivious to the thoughts running through Greyson's mind.
Greyson follows the account, immediately liking the most recent post.
“I don't post much on my account, aside from things I find while skipping. But I don't mind if you tag me. I'll put in your phone number too, just because.”
"Sure! Ima tag 'ya in a whole buncha stuff now, just 'cause 'ya said yes. Just for 'ya t' keep n' eye out."
Vince takes Greyson's phone, inputting the number and putting his name as "VINCE!!". He then sends a test text to himself (labeled as Testing!! Testing!! 123!) and then checks his own phone (responding with It worked!!)
"It worked!" Vince exclaims out loud, looking up from his phone.
"'ll be textin' ya 24/7, too. Any sorta pref as ta' what ya' want ur profile pic n' ur name ta' be?"
Vince hands Greyson the phone for him to input it himself.
“No preference. Though you can't go texting me at two in the morning now, or Vil will have my head for disturbing my roommates.” Grey teases as he inputs his phone number into Vince's phone (after double-checking it).
All he sent?
<3
"Awe, r' ya' serious 'bout that? two AM is prime time fo' textin' n' chattin'!"
He check his prone for the test text message, lighting up when he sees the heart.
"Tha's such a cute heart! 'Ur softer than I thought! D'ya text everyon' a heart, r' am I a special lil' fella?"
Vince chuckles, texting back a small emoticon: (*U*). He stares at his phone more, waiting for a new text to pop up from Greyson. He's liking this silent game. He thinks it's cute.
“It was the first thing I thought of...”
He replies to the emoticon with one of his one: (*´ω｀*)
“I don't text a lot, really. I forgot how much I liked emoticons.”
"Gahdayum, did 'ya make that? Tha's very creative, 'f I do say so m'self!"
Greyson fiddles with the keyboard, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tries to make one by himself. Greyson tries to speak, but Vince won't let him until he's conjured up the perfect kaomoji to use.
"Eh... ahah! 'Think I got it!"
He sends the one he made along with a few variations, grinning like a proud father when he finishes and sits back.
\ (// `u` //) /
\ (// `_` //) /
\ (// `0` //) /
\ (// `^` //) /
“Oh those are so cute. You're good at making kaomojis.” Greyson hearts all of the kaomojis Vince made, though the emoji he uses isn't a heart but rather a spiderweb...
Vince lets out a smug "hmph!" and tilts his chin up, proud. He loves to show off hone it comes to the people that he likes, and he loves even more to get praise for it.
"Thank 'ya! Ya can use 'em if ya... huh?"
Vince looks down at his phone, noticing that Greyson hearted all of the kaomojis with spiderwebs. He tilts his head, squinting to make sure that he was seeing right.
"'S thatta spiderweb?"
Vince looks back up, eyes filled with wonder.
"Wha' kinda reaction 's tha'? Means tha' ma lil' 'emojis r' old r' sumthin?"
“It's just something I do. I got bored of using normal hearts so I chose the spiderweb to be my personal version of a heart emoji. It works the same, I just prefer mine.” Admittedly, Greyson was a bit embarrassed about it. He chose it when he was younger, and it always just kind of stuck.
"N' folks still call 'ya intimidatin'? Ha!"
Vince laughs, abandoning his phone to reach out and pinch Greyson's cheeks. His touch is soft, but his hands are rough. Probably from days of working at the farm.
"What a cutie! Wouldda never thoughtta doin' somethin' so creative! How cute!"
Vince moves back, picking up his phone again. He taps his chin, scrolling through emojis until his eyes light up. He then proceeds to like all of Greyson's texts, but instead of a heart, it's a leaf.
"Whaddya think 'f that? Neat, eh? I take it from ya'!"
“I can be intimidating when I want to be...” It's a flimsy excuse, but not a lie. He's ruined people's lives before.
“Awh that's cute. A leaf suits you.”
His cheeks are sore from Vince's pinching, even a bit red, but that's more from being called cute rather than the pinching.
"Uhuh. Sure 'ya can. 'S a-okay if ur a lil shy, ya'know."
Vince chuckles, now pressing into Greyson fully. He's open for a hug, he very much wants a hug, but he also doesn't want to push Greyson.
"Did'ja really wanna come ofer ta' ma' farm? R' wassat all sum joke?"
He grins, placing his head on Greyson's shoulder.
"Would love it 'f ya came. But we only jus' met."
His eyes light up as a new idea dawns on him.
"Whaddya say ya ask me a few questions, eh? N' I do the same ta ya! How about 'ya start?"
Vince looks at Greyson expectantly, giving him no room to conplain.
Greyson huffs with mock offense and lets his head fall onto Vince's shoulder.
“I don't joke lightly about wanting to escape my mother. I'd love to visit.” He admits, already itching for another cigarette. He doesn't wait long before he's grabbing another from his box and lighting it.
“Me first? Okay. Who's your favorite Housewarden besides your own?”
"Fave housewarden? Ahh... Well, a do like Kalim a bunch! He's such a sweetie. Jamil's a lil more iffy ta' me."
Vince presses his cheek against Greyson's head. He thinks about what question he could ask for a few seconds, taking out another cigarette of his own and asking the question when he the smoke in his mouth caught with the air.
"Aha! Em... wha's tha' guilty preasure of yours? Hope 'm sayin' it right. Neva asked sumone before."
“Anything with white chocolate.” Greyson replies, then takes a drag from it. The taste lingers, like it usually does.
“Right back at you: what's your guilty pleasure?”
"Me? Ah... ah'd say... well."
Vince snorts, getting a little shy now. He usually doesn't reveal things like this right off the bat, but... oh, hell. Vince trusts Grey enough for this.
"Ya might find it stupid, but I do like ta' dance. Think I look like tha' dancin' type, Burt not fo' tha type dancing tha' I do. 'Cause I do pole dancin'."
He nudges Greyson playfully, winking.
"White chocolate's all? C'mon, Grey— ya ain't got nuthin more 'guilty' than tha'? Won't tell a soul, ya' know."
“Well I don't think chain smoking three packs a week is a guilty pleasure if I'm not guilty about it. I guess I really don't have anything.” Greyson tries not to think about the math of that.
He instead focuses on the part Vince said about pole-dancing, then immediately cuts that line of thought when it treads into 'i wouldn't mind watching him poledance' territory.
Vince's smile wavers a little. Three packs a week? Vince may smoke, but not three packs a week. He doesn't mention it yet, but he knows that at some point he's going to have to do something about it. Smoking that much at Greyson's age gets him nervous.
"Well, m' gonna need a lil more from ya. How 'bout... a secret? Here— 'll give ya mine first. Fair 'change."
Vince taps his chin, thinking about a good secret to give him.
"Ah. 've gotta good 'un. N' if ya come to da farm, ur gonna see 'em anyway."
Vince chuckles nervously, rolling his pant legs up to reveal white fur. His face turns a little redder as he speaks.
"Goat legs."
“Huh. Neat.” Greyson genuinely didn't care if Vince had goat legs, someone in Pomefiore was literally covered in scales because of a faulty transformation potion. And what was the point of being in a magical school if you didn't meet some strange people?
“A secret of mine? Hm...” Greyson takes another drag of his cigarette while he thinks, searching for anything that he might categorize as a secret.
Oh.
Well. There's that, of course.
But...
No, too soon.
“Not so much as a secret but it's something I'm ashamed of. I used to run with a pretty bad group in middle school and it got me sent to a juvenile detention center more than once.”
"Well, I'll be! Ya ain't so innocent as I thought, eh?" Vince laughed. He didn't look too fazed. He has met more than a few people who had done bad things in their lives and were trying to get better. He suspected that Greyson was the same way.
He could only hope, anyway.
"N' I suspect 'ur gettin' better, no? 'Cause 'ur real nice n' amazin'! M' enjoying' ma time wit ya!"
He winks, pulling down his pant leg. He doesn't feel so ashamed about his legs anymore. Not with the way Greyson reacted to them. He's glad that the other boy didn't find them weird like most do.
"How 'bout ya ask me sumthin' crazy now? Don' want ya ta think tha' I get all tha privilege in askin' personal stuff."
“Hm. What's the worse thing you've done to someone? If you can't think of anything, then what do you think is the worst?” Greyson didn't like how much faith Vince had in him. Would he still think the same after seeing the case files?
The sight of her still haunts his nightmares, he has a feeling that she'll never forgive him even when he's dead.
"Me? Ah... well, wouldn't call m'self a very bad guy. Most ah'd say is driven' summon ta madness with da way I get all competitive sumtimes," Vince chuckles. Him and his family aren't really ones to harm anybody; they've all been called sweethearts at least once in their lives. Except two people of the bunch, but even then they're trying to change.
A satanist and a cannibalist. An unhealthy duo.
"N' wha 'bout you? R' should I ask a differen' quest'n?"
Vince takes another smoke, looking at Greyson inquisitively. Maybe he did something bad in the juvenile detention of his. He wouldn't very much mind if it's in the past.
“I did something that hurt one of my friends and I still feel horrible about it. It was my idea, and I didn't think anyone would get hurt.” Blood. So much blood. He didn't know a person had that much in them.
Is it better or worse that he's glad it was her and not anyone else?
He looks one minute away from just shoving his cigarette into his mouth and eating it.
“Ah, don't tell anyone, but I'm still supposed to be serving time.”
Vince almost judges, but then he stops and rethinks. Judging? Really? In his predicament? No.
"I won' tell. An' if ya don' wanna tell what happen' tha' day either, tha's a-okay. But jus' kno' tha you n' I, well, we're in tha same situation. So if 'ya ever wanna tell me 'bout tha, I could tell ya bout my siblings Marcy n Ophelia."
He smiles, trying to lighten the mood.
"How 'bout we move to sumthin a lil lighter? Like, eh... ah—HAH! Like crushes! Ya have a crush? R' do ya kno' bout any drama round here?"
“I don't have a crush on anyone, but for drama? I hear that there's a student in Diasomnia who is the reason for all of the strange white flowers popping up around campus.”
"Eh? Do ya know who tha student is? R do I gotta pay a fee ta kno'?"
Vince giggles, ruffling Greyson's hair as an excuse to get to touch him more. Vince had never really had a crush before, more prone to feeling familial things than anything else. But now, with this sweet, broken boy...
He didn't want to get too into it.
"I'm funny, ain't I? Say m' funny, R' I'll get Riddle ta chop ur head off," he teases.
“Well you're funnier than everyone in Pomefiore, I'll give you that. I don't know who the student is, I've just seen him around one of the third years. Uh, red hair, green eyes, really likes roses. I think his name is Briar. They're.. kind of weird.”
"Weird how?" Vince asks, tilting his head.
"'Cause ah'd say tha' we're weird, too. Is it like tha'? R' sumthin' different?"
He tilts his head, reaching out and snatching another fancy cigarette from Greyson. He chuckles, lighting the front with his mechanical finger like he had shown before. He then opens a hidden pocket in his arm, taking out two chocolate bites.
"Want? It ain't white. N' I've got otha stuff, 'f ya want. Jus' take a peek in ther'."
“Nah, I'll pass. I'm not really craving anything sweet right now.” Greyson tries to think of a more appropriate word for the two he's describing.
“Well the Diasomnia student doesn't... Well to put it plainly, he looks like he should be dead. One time I think I saw him remove his entire arm. For my upperclassman... I don't know. Something about his rose garden feels weird.”
Well, this didn't really go the direction he wanted it to, did it? He tried to lighten the mood, and now it's become even darker. He feels like an idiot.
"Tha's pretty wild. Neva knew of sumone who could do tha before."
Vince chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He hopes that Greyson will ask him a question, because he doesn't think that asking him so many things at a time is very appropriate. What else can he comment on? Think, think...
“Sorry, I'm bad at keeping things light. Uhm... What's your favorite cafe? Maybe we can go there sometime, my treat.” Greyson could really go for an iced caramel macchiato, especially with the weather warming up.
"Favorite cafe? Ta be hones', I don' usually go. How 'bout ya tell me urs? R we could even go there', if we're able ta."
After a second, he adds quickly:
"Only if ya wanna! 'S of course ur decisi'n! I don' mean ta be so forward 'bout these things. M' sorry."
Vince rubs his hand over his arm a few times. He hopes that Greyson isn't getting weirded out because of how forward he keeps being. But then again, going right about now to a cafe sounds like a good idea... to drink a smoothie from the same straw like 1980s rom-coms...
Sevens, what is he thinking?!
“There's this one in town I really like. They have these amazing pastries made with actual vanilla filling in them.” Grey's face practically lights up as he describes them, but uh... (Un)fortunately for Vince, Greyson doesn't seem to notice just how forward Vince is being.
Oof.
Greyson though, they were just happy to have a friend.
"Would ya maybe wanna go ther' right 'bout now? Would love ta try un!"
Vince smiles, already gathering his things to leave. If Vince knew Greyson even a little, he could already tell that someone like him would know the best way to sneak out of school. He's done it a few times himself, but maybe learning from a true expert would prove him well. Most of the times that he's done it, he's gone straight to detention.
"Promise tha' I won' let us get caught," he winks.
“Sure, why not. I've got my wallet on me anyway.” Greyson snuffs out his cigarette and tucks it back into the box, then stands up to stretch. His back cracks audibly in several different places, and they sigh while slumping just a tad.
“You promise? Well, then don't go breaking it. I don't like people who break promises.” It's lighthearted, paired with a smile, but Greyson knows just how hypocritical he was being by saying that.
"Ima be payin', thank ya very much. 've got more money than I need," Vince huffs, standing up with Greyson. He leads the way to the area that would take them out of the school grounds, smiling at the teasing quip.
"Don' plan on it, a' least—ain't mean tha' it might happen. Seein' tha' ya got outta tha' prison, I'm thinkin' tha you've got a lotta practice in this, so we should be fine."
He climbs onto the top fence, climbing it and lending Greyson a hand when he reaches the top.
"Ur scrawny, but I believe in 'ya!"
Scrawny? A rare bit of competitiveness blooms in Greyson as he grasps the fence and heaves himself over it with ease.
“Scrawny, eh?” He parrots, a grin on his face.
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
[He stares at Nick, surprised clearly at the quick whirl of movements. Kit will neither confirm nor deny whether seeing Nick on one knee apologizing like so made him slightly blush. He shook his head, dropping to one knee too and gently placing a hand on Nick’s.]
“Don’t apologize, Kitty… I ain’t mad, this isn’t your fault.”
“I still broke it.” Nicholas lets go of Kit's hand to hug them again, definitely not willing to let go of his only friend.
“You're my only friend. If I can't keep a simple promise like promising to not leave because I let myself get transported to the Victorian era, then what kind of friend am I.”
[Kit is a little bit disoriented with all the movement directed towards him so quickly, awkwardly hugging Nick back.]
“I-I guess but this isn’t just something that happens everyday, it was just bad luck so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Nicholas looks up at Kit with the biggest, saddest pout ever. Poor guy is genuinely distraught.
He looks just like a kicked kitten, truly fitting the nickname Kit gave him.
finding pomefiore's resident disappointment
Greyson massaged the bridge of his nose as he slipped out of history class as soon as Professor Trein turned his back, footsteps light and quick as he retreated to his favorite spot in the courtyard. He sat down on a bench and pulled out his box of cigarettes, lighting one with a bit of magic and taking a long drag from it.
“Fucking finally.. I've been craving a smoke all day.” He mutters to himself, smoke drifting past his lips and curling into the air.
He thinks he's alone. But is he truly?
He's only halfway done with his cigarette when he hears the crunching of grass under shoes, and whips his head around, his void-like eyes wide with panic. He's absolutely dead if it's Vil or Rook who caught him, and even deader if Trein found him out here.
HURTS THE LUNGS, HURTS THE SOUL.
Vicente Cabro isn't well-known, but he isn't unknown, either. He's somewhere in the middle, and while he knows many people, he doesn't have a lot of them that he can call friends. Who knows— maybe Greyson Jude will be the one to become one of the rare people Vince calls a true friend. Maybe someone who isn't afraid to defy the rules is just what he needs.
Vince needs a break. He's only been in Night Raven College for a few months, and already he's getting overstimulated. He's never been away from his siblings for so long, the most being a day or two when he's out doing things. The absence of their chattering voices is jarring for him, and history class isn't really doing it for him when it comes to listening the growing ache in his heart. Stepping out of that stuffy classroom buzzing with energy and getting some fresh air for a few minutes is exactly what he needs right now.
Except the air isn't all that fresh. It's laced with smoke, something Vince can sense from a mile away. He's not unfamiliar with the smell—in fact, he even brought outside a pack of his own cigarettes, ready to use them to blow off some steam. Is there already someone smoking out here?
He steps forward, the grass beneath him shifting to hold his weight. When he gets closer, he tilts his head, recognizing their uniform. A Pomefiore student. And a young one, at that—a first year like him, maybe? Vince doesn't see many first years smoking like he does. This is new. And very welcome.
Vince comes closer, ready to join the other boy on the bench if he'd allow it, but he freezes when he whips his head around. He hadn't thought that he would scare the poor Pomefiore so badly.
"Ah... didn' mean t' startle ya', man. M' here for the same reason you are, if 'm bein' frank."
He takes out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, jostling them while his other hand moves to rub the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture.
"Do ya' mind if I sit next t' ya'? M' not a tattletale or anythin', I swear."
Hello, @preservedfrostbite!! I've been lurking around your blog for a little bit ever since @winterwhxspers told me about the roleplay that you're doing with your vampire OC, and I thought that you were super super cool!! I hope you don't mind me starting this roleplay with you, and, if you're up for it, I'd really like to get to know you more and be roleplay friends!!
Greyson looks at Vince for a moment, his black almost soulless eyes seeming to pierce through Vince's very being, then he pats the spot beside him invitingly.
“You're in my class, aren't you? T'be honest, I didn't think anyone else would come out to escape from Trein's bullshit.” Grey mumbles around his cigarette, digging in his pockets for a moment and pulling out a lighter that he offers to Vince. They can just use magic, sure, but there was something nostalgic about using an ordinary lighter.
Well, as ordinary as a custom-made lighter could get. The mirror and forest motifs, alongside Greyson's name scrawled in cursive, is a dead giveaway that he has money or at least comes from it.
“You scared the shit out of me, coming up behind me like that. I thought it was Vil or Rook or Trein coming to rip me a new one.”
"Ah—that's right, ain't it? You n' I are in the same class. Well, M' sorry for scarin' ya' like that either way. Just wanted t' have a friendly smoke—I don' see many first-years willin' t' do that with me."
Vince takes his seat a comfortable distance away from Greyson, leaning his arm against the side of the bench. He takes one of his cigarettes out, murmuring a small "thank you" when the other boy hands him the lighter.
"Unless ya' ain't willin', which in that case, I'd be makin' a fool outta myself right now. M' pretty experienced in that... locale."
Vince turns the lighter over in his hands, reading the word engraved off to the side.
"Doesn't look like any regular lighter I've seen. N' those cigarettes, too—look like they come from 'n expensive brand, why don't they. D' ya' think they feel any different to smoke, at the end?"
He chuckles, lighting up his cigarette and handing the lighter back. He takes a puff, giving the smoke a minute to properly mix with he air before he asks another question.
"Care to tell me who Greyson is?"
“That'd be me. Greyson Jude, but people usually just call me Grey.”
“There's probably not much of a difference, but you can try one of mine if you'd like.” He offers, taking the lighter back and pocketing it before blowing smoke out into the air.
“I don't mind hanging out with someone while I smoke, it's just that there aren't many first years willing to. And what about you, hm? I don't think I remember Trein calling your name out during attendance.”
"I see. Grey it is, then. Nice t' meetcha, Grey."
Vince takes the offered cigarette gingerly, lighting it with the other cigarette he has on hand.
"Feel like 'm in the presence 'f riches, I do. Like 'm some poor weasel on the side 'f the road that's gettin' a whiff of the way the wealthy do it. Reckon 'm feelin' right?"
He smiles at his analogy, taking a whiff from this cigarette.
"Flows a little better, that's for sure. But at the end 'f the day, the relief is all the same. Thanks for letting' me try em' out, though."
Vince tilts his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles wistfully. It's not a surprise to him that this Greyson stranger didn't catch his name right off the bat—it's near-missable, unless you're actually looking out for it. Vince won't admit it out loud, but the other boy does look like the type to fully disregard anyone who won't give him something.
Maybe this exchange is different. Or maybe he's the victim.
"Name's Vicente Cabro, but everyone calls me Vince. Don't blame ya' for not recognizing it right off the bat. A pretty ordinary name, that one."
Vince offers his own cigarette box to him, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
"Any chance you wanna take a look at life over on the poor side? Give 'ya some humility, won't it."
“Eh, why the hell not?” It was only fair, right? Truthfully he does feel bad for not catching the other boy's name, but it was only because he's running on three hours of sleep and an iced coffee.
“Vince, hm? I wouldn't call it ordinary, if anything I think Greyson is more common, but it's a pleasure to meet you as well.” He hums with consideration after getting a whiff of the other's cig.
“There's definitely a difference, but like you said before: they bring the same kind of relief.”
Vince nods, stretching out his arm on the bench's back. His fingers brush Greyson's blazer, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Right they do," he says simply, nodding as he brings the fancy cigarette up to his lips again. He looks back at the other boy, noticing the details in his uniform: the beret-like hat on his head, the accent necklaces, the earrings that are something new compared to what students at Night Raven College usually wear. It's cute, he thinks.
"I like what y' did with the outfit, by the way. Added 'ur own personal touch. That's nice."
He tips his cigarette over the bench, dusting some of the charcoal-dark particles off with his finger.
"What brings y' here, Grey? Something deep? R' just takin' a rest?"
“Thanks. I just thought it might be a nice way to make myself stand out a bit. Wearing uniforms takes away some of that self-expression.” Grey fidgets with one of the dangly earrings he has, one that's shaped like an arrowhead on a chain.
“It's just a certain smell in Trein's room that gives me a migraine, I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. And plus, I haven't had a smoke today until now. I just needed a break. You too, I'm guessing?”
"More 'r less."
Vince smiles faintly, but his eyes don't look like they're present in the conversation.
"'S hard for me to stay away from m' family for so long. I've been w' them for ages. I jus' got particularly overwhelmed today."
He watches Grey fidget with the earring, noticing that he might be uncomfortable. He hesitates before speaking his next words, voice careful.
"You wanna tell me how you got to this school? This college? Only if you wanna, of course."
He's praying to the sevens that Grey isn't uncomfortable with him. He's missed domestic stuff like this.
“To settle down, mostly. My mother travels for work and I never had the time to make real friends, plus I had several behavioral issues that often got me in trouble. I love my mother, I truly do, but sometimes it feels like she cares more about her job than me.” Greyson leans a bit into Vince, half-resting against the other boy's shoulder and throwing any worry of him being uncomfortable out of a metaphorical window.
“I'm honestly not all too sure what I want to do with my life. I believe my mother is some sort of... travel agent? I don't know. Last I checked, she was in Briar Valley and heading to the Coral Sea.”
Vince watches as Greyson leans in, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting this from the other boy, but, like everything, it's welcome with open arms.
Vince is a touchy person, and not having affection for months on end can make a touchy person go crazy. He used to get satiated easily, getting in a cuddle pile with his parents and siblings and watching a movie and play-fighting with them and sticking by their side. But now, this—barely a graze, an unconscious movement—is all the touch he can get anymore. It drives Vince mad, but he doesn't want to make a move and scare the poor boy. He... looses track of his limits sometimes, especially with unfamiliar things (or people).
"I understan' the feeling," Vince nods. "My parents used t' do the same thing, but t' a... more brash extent. But now I got brought into a lovin' family, n' I would never change 'em for anythin' else. Thing's get better, Grey. You can hold me t' it."
Vince looks down at his free palm, opening and closing it a few times. He pretends to do a cool magic spell, whacking it round and round as if he's doing something really powerful.
"Don' even have my UM yet. I wish, though."
His palm drops back to his lap.
"You have 'ur UM yet, Grey? Haven' seen one 'n action yet, so maybe 'd get 'ta know a thing r' two with 'urs."
“...I have mine, but it's not exactly... It's not something I'd want to use on a friend. It's invasive, I only ever use it if I really need to.” Greyson never received much affection during his childhood, and yet Vince.. This boy, this stranger he's just met.. Why was it so easy to tell him everything? It was almost baffling.
“I'm glad you have a better family, at the very least. It must be nice, having siblings. As far as I know, my closest relative is my grandmother, and I'm quite sick of hearing her preach about gender comformity.”
He laughs, but it's a little bitter. The Pomefiore student hides his wistful look behind another drag of his cigarette, which was already becoming a stub from use over time.
“I don't really think seeing people's deepest fears is someone I'd want to be known for, but it's not something I can really keep quiet for long.”
"Gender conformity? 'R ya' genderqueer, perchance? R' is it jus' because ya' dress a little feminin'?"
Vince takes a drag with him, the smoke from the two cigarettes hesitating before twisting and blending into each other. It's almost poetic.
"I don' care 'bout gender nonsense, don' get me wrong. I jus' wanna know what t' refer t' you by. Better t' tell me sooner than later, 'cause then I keep slippin' up."
Vince decides to be a little daring and press against Greyson's shoulder. Now, instead of a light graze, they're pressing into each other, however softly.
"Y' can see people's deepest fears? My, that's something', ain't it? Emotional UM's have alway's been m' preference compared t' physical ones. If y' eva' go haywire n' decide t' use it on me, I think I'd trust ya' w' the result. Ya' hear?"
“I might be genderqueer? Honestly, I have no clue. I just like to dress cute. And if cute means being a bit effeminate, then I guess that's what I'm rocking with. I do use masculine pronouns, maybe they/them too? I haven't really questioned it much. I just like what I like.” Grey shrugs, smile a little brighter now. His head is almost entirely resting on Vince's shoulder now. He always gets sleepy when he smokes, like it was some kind of curse for having a nicotine addiction.
“So that's your preference.. Well, your trust isn't misplaced, at the very least. Unless you decide to throw me in a fountain or something. I'm a little bit petty like that.”
"Well, you'll be happy t' kno' that I won't be throwin' anybody in any fountains anytime soon. That, you can count 'n"
Vince chuckles, letting Grey rest on his shoulder all he wants. He's itching to get closer, longing to get the affection he heeds. But he's able to controls himself and take another puff instead.
"How 'bout I use they/them on you from now on? So y' can see when one y' like better?"
Don't get ahead of 'urself, Vince. He don't mean anythin' by this. Stay calm.
"N' for me, you can use sum' usual he/him, by the way. To let 'ya know."
His fingers curl tighter around the cigarette.
“Mkay. I think I like that, using both. He and they. Feels right.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette, then snuffs it out and puts it back in the box so he's not littering.
“Glad to know that I won't be expecting any surprise baths from you, at least.”
"He n' they it is."
A comfortable silence wraps around the two boys. Or, comfortable for Greyson, at least—Vince is internally panicking, scrambling to find something else to talk about. He's usually good at this. Why can't he be good at this right now?
"Ya' told me a bit 'bout your home life, so 'll tell you 'bout mine 'n return," he blurts a little faster than usual. A weak conversation starter in the sense that it's obvious, but a conversation starter nonetheless.
"'M adopted. Grew up young n' a shit family, not very important. Got adopted by m' momma n' my mom n' my papa n' my dad when I was twelve. Ya' heard right: four. 'S a polycule, n' they adopted four children n' had five t' go with 'em. M' the seventh r' eighth, pretty sure."
Vince chuckles, ruffling Greyson's hair lightly as a thought occurs to him.
"If ya' ever wanna break from break from ur' momma, I'd be glad t' share one of mine. Y' can come over to my house, so long as y' don' mind doin' dirty work. 'Cause we live at a farm."
His beret is displaced by the ruffling, and he gives Vince a pout as he fixes it back into place. He looks contemplative for a moment, his hand going back up to fidget with that same earring, then hums. Not a response, but a consideration.
“I'm not one to shy away from dirty work, but I'll warn you now that I burn like dry grass in a heatwave.” It's a kind offer, one that he's never been given before. Usually people were too wary of him to get close.
“I think it'd be nice, staying in such a full house. I've never experienced what having siblings is like.”
"Ah, yes. Think it'll be real bondin' if we shovel cow manure t'gether!"
Vince laughs out loud, the worry from being away from his siblings for long slowly fading away. This boy—this sweet, quiet boy, really had an effect on Vince. Greyson was able to bring Vince back to normal even while they're talking about family.
A kind person, indeed. Vince would have to try his hardest to befriend Greyson.
"Reckon you'll have fun, though. 'll put you with sum' easier jobs, n' at the end, we could go do something' fun. Moms n' dads won't let you r' me leave without a fight."
A blush creeps up Vince's cheeks. There it is. He's lost his limits, and is inviting practically a stranger over to his house. What's up with me?! I can't be so bold alluva sudden!
"'Course, if 'ya want to, that is. N' even then, I'd like to get t' know 'ya sum' more."
“I'd have to convince Mother. But I would like that, even if just to get away from the Queendom for a while.” If one were to look close enough, a pink flush on the tips of Greyson's ears could be seen.
Easy to fluster under all the so-called aloofness. No one ever tries to approach them, and Vince might just be the first.
“You're sweet. Makes me unable to function properly. No one is ever this nice to me.”
Vince laughs heartily again, an amused glint in his eye. Greyson is oddly easy to read. When Vince first approached, he thought that Greyson would be one of the difficult, poker-face types. Turns out that he's just a bit shy.
"N' why would that be? You're adorable! Nevr' get people, really. Always judgin' for no reason."
Vince slaps Greyson's shoulder a few times, in a teasing, playful manner. He's grinning from ear to ear, happy that Greyson is happy and also so close to him.
"Thank's for the compliment, tho'. Most uvda kids here been screamin' 'm' stoic n' with a fragile ego' everywhere I look. Appreciate someone who can admit stuff jus' like that. "
Definitely shy, but definitely bold in his own ways. He can't seem to take gratitude properly, instead fidgeting with the hem of Vince's sleeve. He runs a finger up the length of the other boy's arm and then gives him a small smile.
“I'm adorable, huh? I think that might be a new word used to describe me. You're easy on the eyes too, Vince.”
Obvious? Yes. But Mother always said to go after the things he wants before they escape him.
And well...
Vince's eyebrows raises his eyebrows, scoffing.
"'Easy n' the eyes?' I've been called more uva hunk in my lifetime. But thank 'ya, Grey."
He looks down, watching Greyson's finger as it trails up his metal arm. He extends his fingers, showing the arm off a little bit.
"Does it look odd to 'ya, Grey? 'S a prosthetic arm, if 'ya couldn't tell. Got this while I was fulla bullshit. Still full bullshit now, but I can control myself. 'Nough."
Vince grabs one of his poor cigarettes, the newer one that Greyson gave him kicked to the curb long ago. He twists his finger, and a soft flame bursts from the tip of it, which he uses to heat up the front of the cigarette.
"Neat, ain't it? Put it there myself. 'M a bit of a metalworker, so t' speak. If 'ya ever need sumthin' metal done, don't be shy."
The way Greyson's pupils dilate at the sight of the flame is captivating, like gaining the trust of a reclusive creature enough for them to eat from your palm.
“...Yourself, huh? It suits you, makes you all the more charming, non?” He doesn't know why he slips into a different language, maybe it's from being in such proximity to Rook, or maybe his childhood lessons finally have reason to be used, but there are just some words that English doesn't contain to describe this.
“Une œuvre d'art. A work of art. Your arm, that is. Though that's not to say that you aren't also a work of art- Aïe, je suis en train de me creuser ma propre tombe.”
Grey goes silent, praying to the Seven to give him strength, and wills the warmth on his cheeks to retreat.
“What I mean to say is, your talent, precision, and dedication are works of art.”
Real smooth, Jude.
"Oh, 'd say that m' arm's a real piece of art, too. The rest 'f me, not so much. 'd like ta' say 'm a... more uva statue, maybe. R' someone on an emblem. R' on a coin."
Vince waves his hands around, being all showy in an exaggerated way to try and get this guy to laugh. He's not all that egoistical, so it's obvious that what he's saying is all just a joke. When Grey gives him a funny look, Vince can't help but burst into laughter all over again, slapping Grey on the back hard. Not enough to make a dent, but enough to make that cute pouting face again.
When Grey starts speaking French, though, Vince blanks, freezing in place.
"...Ah? What's up with the French? I don' speak a lick 'f French, 'll have 'ya know. Coulda' call'd me a slur, 'nd I'd have no clue!"
Vince snorts, grinning from ear to ear. It's true—he doesn't know not one bit of any other language besides the one he was born saying. The only French words he does know would be stuff like "oui oui" and "bonjour," and even then he would butcher them horribly (wei wei and bonejauhr).
"Care t' translate, 'r should I stay not knowin'? Could do that too, long as you pinky promise that ya' won't spew no shit 'bout me behind m' back."
“I said I was digging myself a grave. I'm not the best with words.” Grey smiles sheepishly, his earlier pout from when Vince slapped him on the back.
“You'd be able to tell if I was cussing you out in French, I promise.” His fingers twitch when he says that, like he's considering reaching up and playing with his earring again. It calmed him when he was embarrassed, though he's got not a clue why that's so.
“R’ ya’ sure ‘bout that? M’ not kiddin’ ‘round when I tell ‘ya that I don’t know nuthin’ ‘f French.”
Vince noticed Grey almost going to fiddle with his earring again, and decides to take a bold move and place his mechanical hand gently on top of Grey’s. He chuckles at the other boy’s sheepishness, winking at him as he speaks.
“Think ‘ur good with words, tho’. Ain’t have nobody call me a work ‘f art in this lifetime. N’ I don’t think nobody’ll ever tell me it like you did.”
So much care around the words. So much tenderness, even though they’re technically not even friends yet. Vince wonders why that is, but drops it after a few seconds of pondering. It’s probably just out of formality.
“How ‘bout you tell me ‘bout a curse word, so I can seem real cool when I cuss ‘em out usin’ sum French? Think ‘ll look badass?”
Greyson audibly squeaks when he feels Vince place a hand over his, face turning bright red once again. Well fuck.
“I think you'd only be impressive if you knew more than just a few curse words, but alright. Though in my opinion, the best insults are the ones you don't need to use swears.”
Vince laughs out loud at the squeak, but he makes sure that Greyson’s actually comfortable with what he’s doing. His eyes rake over Greyson’s form, deciding to keep his hand there and not push any further to see what else the other boy will do. For a minute, Vince wishes that he could get Grey’s flushed face on camera…
“Mmm… We’ll, if ‘ya think that way, then how ‘bout ya’ give me a real authentic French insult? One that’ll get someone’s boots shakin’, so I can tell it to ‘ur haters n’ have ‘em runnin’ for their lives?”
He snickers at the thought, but he’s not really kidding. If anyone was fucking around with Greyson, Vince would be very sure to give them a piece of his mind. It’s what friends do, of course.
Greyson had only been surprised, he truly didn't mind. He could also feel the way Vince's eyes traveled over him, almost shivering.
“Avoir le QI d’une huître. It means that to have the IQ of an oyster. One of my favorites, personally.” Grey smiles, a bright little thing that makes the world feel just a little bit brighter.
“There's also 'Con comme une valise sans poignée.' It means 'as stupid as a suitcase without a handle.'”
"A suitcase without no handle 's pretty stupid!"
Vince laughs, patting Grey on the back for the good insults. He tries to say the insult in French—"cone conmeh uhn valaisw sans po-ih-knee?"—but butchers it terribly and has to watch as Grey laughs in his face.
"Wha—hey! M' pronunciation ain't tha' bad! V' never dun this befor'!"
He's not offended by it, though. Vince laughs along with Grey, but pauses when he catches sight of that pretty smile. My, Sevens...
"Ya'know, after seein' it n' person, m' thinkin' you should smile a little more. Suits 'ya. Brings out yer eyes."
He takes out his phone, opening the camera app.
"Cm'ere. Lemme show ya'."
He puts them two into the frame, grinning wide.
“Your French isn't too bad for a beginner.” Greyson praises, only to blink in surprise when Vince takes out his phone.
He flushes at the compliment to his smile, but sheepishly looks towards the camera while placing a hand on Vince's shoulder.
For a moment, he looks a little hesitant to smile, but when he does it's just as sweet as the one he gave to Vince moments before.
"There 'ya go! D' ya see tha' cute thin'?"
Vince shows Greyson the photo, zooming into his face. Whether or not Greyson sees anything different in himself, it's clear that Vince sees a lot in him.
"'Dorable! Ya'd really be a hot shot, if ya did tha' 'round more people. Good thin' that ya' ain't, 'cause I kinda wanna keep tha' perfect smile all to m'self."
Vince sends the photo to his family group chat before putting the phone into his pocket. The action rides his pants down just a tad, but what's really curious is the white fur peeking underneath. He doesn't seem to realize this, nor the implications of what he just said.
"Do 'ya wanna pictura 'f me, too? 'Could pose all pretty fo' ya. Well—ima try m' best, that's fo' sure."
Greyson visible short circuits, face steadily turning as red as Riddle's hair. His heart is racing for reasons he can't identify properly, with the source of this reaction all coming from the boy seated next to him.
“I-” His throat feels dry. Why does it feel dry?
“You wouldn't have to pose, you're pretty as is.” He mutters, too flustered to notice the fur as he takes out his own phone cups Vince's face with his free hand.
It seems like he's perfectly fine with taking pictures with other people as long as he's not the main subject of it. He stares at the photo for a very long time, then pockets his phone after sending it to someone.
Who?
Who knows. There wasn't a contact name.
:)
Vince sticks out his tongue in an attempt to look silly, cheeks puffed out in a wide smile. When he's allowed to move again, he tries to look over, but Greyson doesn't let him since he doesn't want the other boy to see who he's sending it to.
"Wha—hey! Whos' that, eh? Ya' beter not be sendin' stuf t' sum rando who'll mock me fo' tha' arm o' mine!"
Vince pouts after realizing that he's really not going to be allowed to see who he's texting, but then his eyes light up when an idea crosses his mind.
"Ah! Didya want my magicam n' that number o' mine, Grey? M' happy t' give it t'ya! I post sum stuff n' there, f' ya'd like t' take a look!"
He looks excited to share it. Greyson can't say no to those puppy eyes.
“Simply a friend of mine. I keep forgetting to save her contact.” Either way, he nods when Greyson asks if he could share his socials.
“Oui, I want to keep in touch with you. It's too easy to lose people in this school.”
"Sure! Jus' type in 'ere 'V1nce.xz', n' it'll probably pop up!"
That's what Greyson starts with, typing the handle into magicam to find the account. When he clicks on the profile picture of a cat hiding in the bushes of a forest, he can already spot a picture from Vince at the gym peeking out from under his bio.
"I could type ma numba for ya, if ya'd like! Y' could put whateva profile picture ya' wanna on there! N' y' don' mind me taggin 'ya n' stuff, d'ya?"
Vince tilts his head, clearly oblivious to the thoughts running through Greyson's mind.
Greyson follows the account, immediately liking the most recent post.
“I don't post much on my account, aside from things I find while skipping. But I don't mind if you tag me. I'll put in your phone number too, just because.”
"Sure! Ima tag 'ya in a whole buncha stuff now, just 'cause 'ya said yes. Just for 'ya t' keep n' eye out."
Vince takes Greyson's phone, inputting the number and putting his name as "VINCE!!". He then sends a test text to himself (labeled as Testing!! Testing!! 123!) and then checks his own phone (responding with It worked!!)
"It worked!" Vince exclaims out loud, looking up from his phone.
"'ll be textin' ya 24/7, too. Any sorta pref as ta' what ya' want ur profile pic n' ur name ta' be?"
Vince hands Greyson the phone for him to input it himself.
“No preference. Though you can't go texting me at two in the morning now, or Vil will have my head for disturbing my roommates.” Grey teases as he inputs his phone number into Vince's phone (after double-checking it).
All he sent?
<3
"Awe, r' ya' serious 'bout that? two AM is prime time fo' textin' n' chattin'!"
He check his prone for the test text message, lighting up when he sees the heart.
"Tha's such a cute heart! 'Ur softer than I thought! D'ya text everyon' a heart, r' am I a special lil' fella?"
Vince chuckles, texting back a small emoticon: (*U*). He stares at his phone more, waiting for a new text to pop up from Greyson. He's liking this silent game. He thinks it's cute.
“It was the first thing I thought of...”
He replies to the emoticon with one of his one: (*´ω｀*)
“I don't text a lot, really. I forgot how much I liked emoticons.”
"Gahdayum, did 'ya make that? Tha's very creative, 'f I do say so m'self!"
Greyson fiddles with the keyboard, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tries to make one by himself. Greyson tries to speak, but Vince won't let him until he's conjured up the perfect kaomoji to use.
"Eh... ahah! 'Think I got it!"
He sends the one he made along with a few variations, grinning like a proud father when he finishes and sits back.
\ (// `u` //) /
\ (// `_` //) /
\ (// `0` //) /
\ (// `^` //) /
“Oh those are so cute. You're good at making kaomojis.” Greyson hearts all of the kaomojis Vince made, though the emoji he uses isn't a heart but rather a spiderweb...
Vince lets out a smug "hmph!" and tilts his chin up, proud. He loves to show off hone it comes to the people that he likes, and he loves even more to get praise for it.
"Thank 'ya! Ya can use 'em if ya... huh?"
Vince looks down at his phone, noticing that Greyson hearted all of the kaomojis with spiderwebs. He tilts his head, squinting to make sure that he was seeing right.
"'S thatta spiderweb?"
Vince looks back up, eyes filled with wonder.
"Wha' kinda reaction 's tha'? Means tha' ma lil' 'emojis r' old r' sumthin?"
“It's just something I do. I got bored of using normal hearts so I chose the spiderweb to be my personal version of a heart emoji. It works the same, I just prefer mine.” Admittedly, Greyson was a bit embarrassed about it. He chose it when he was younger, and it always just kind of stuck.
"N' folks still call 'ya intimidatin'? Ha!"
Vince laughs, abandoning his phone to reach out and pinch Greyson's cheeks. His touch is soft, but his hands are rough. Probably from days of working at the farm.
"What a cutie! Wouldda never thoughtta doin' somethin' so creative! How cute!"
Vince moves back, picking up his phone again. He taps his chin, scrolling through emojis until his eyes light up. He then proceeds to like all of Greyson's texts, but instead of a heart, it's a leaf.
"Whaddya think 'f that? Neat, eh? I take it from ya'!"
“I can be intimidating when I want to be...” It's a flimsy excuse, but not a lie. He's ruined people's lives before.
“Awh that's cute. A leaf suits you.”
His cheeks are sore from Vince's pinching, even a bit red, but that's more from being called cute rather than the pinching.
"Uhuh. Sure 'ya can. 'S a-okay if ur a lil shy, ya'know."
Vince chuckles, now pressing into Greyson fully. He's open for a hug, he very much wants a hug, but he also doesn't want to push Greyson.
"Did'ja really wanna come ofer ta' ma' farm? R' wassat all sum joke?"
He grins, placing his head on Greyson's shoulder.
"Would love it 'f ya came. But we only jus' met."
His eyes light up as a new idea dawns on him.
"Whaddya say ya ask me a few questions, eh? N' I do the same ta ya! How about 'ya start?"
Vince looks at Greyson expectantly, giving him no room to conplain.
Greyson huffs with mock offense and lets his head fall onto Vince's shoulder.
“I don't joke lightly about wanting to escape my mother. I'd love to visit.” He admits, already itching for another cigarette. He doesn't wait long before he's grabbing another from his box and lighting it.
“Me first? Okay. Who's your favorite Housewarden besides your own?”
"Fave housewarden? Ahh... Well, a do like Kalim a bunch! He's such a sweetie. Jamil's a lil more iffy ta' me."
Vince presses his cheek against Greyson's head. He thinks about what question he could ask for a few seconds, taking out another cigarette of his own and asking the question when he the smoke in his mouth caught with the air.
"Aha! Em... wha's tha' guilty preasure of yours? Hope 'm sayin' it right. Neva asked sumone before."
“Anything with white chocolate.” Greyson replies, then takes a drag from it. The taste lingers, like it usually does.
“Right back at you: what's your guilty pleasure?”
"Me? Ah... ah'd say... well."
Vince snorts, getting a little shy now. He usually doesn't reveal things like this right off the bat, but... oh, hell. Vince trusts Grey enough for this.
"Ya might find it stupid, but I do like ta' dance. Think I look like tha' dancin' type, Burt not fo' tha type dancing tha' I do. 'Cause I do pole dancin'."
He nudges Greyson playfully, winking.
"White chocolate's all? C'mon, Grey— ya ain't got nuthin more 'guilty' than tha'? Won't tell a soul, ya' know."
“Well I don't think chain smoking three packs a week is a guilty pleasure if I'm not guilty about it. I guess I really don't have anything.” Greyson tries not to think about the math of that.
He instead focuses on the part Vince said about pole-dancing, then immediately cuts that line of thought when it treads into 'i wouldn't mind watching him poledance' territory.
Vince's smile wavers a little. Three packs a week? Vince may smoke, but not three packs a week. He doesn't mention it yet, but he knows that at some point he's going to have to do something about it. Smoking that much at Greyson's age gets him nervous.
"Well, m' gonna need a lil more from ya. How 'bout... a secret? Here— 'll give ya mine first. Fair 'change."
Vince taps his chin, thinking about a good secret to give him.
"Ah. 've gotta good 'un. N' if ya come to da farm, ur gonna see 'em anyway."
Vince chuckles nervously, rolling his pant legs up to reveal white fur. His face turns a little redder as he speaks.
"Goat legs."
“Huh. Neat.” Greyson genuinely didn't care if Vince had goat legs, someone in Pomefiore was literally covered in scales because of a faulty transformation potion. And what was the point of being in a magical school if you didn't meet some strange people?
“A secret of mine? Hm...” Greyson takes another drag of his cigarette while he thinks, searching for anything that he might categorize as a secret.
Oh.
Well. There's that, of course.
But...
No, too soon.
“Not so much as a secret but it's something I'm ashamed of. I used to run with a pretty bad group in middle school and it got me sent to a juvenile detention center more than once.”
"Well, I'll be! Ya ain't so innocent as I thought, eh?" Vince laughed. He didn't look too fazed. He has met more than a few people who had done bad things in their lives and were trying to get better. He suspected that Greyson was the same way.
He could only hope, anyway.
"N' I suspect 'ur gettin' better, no? 'Cause 'ur real nice n' amazin'! M' enjoying' ma time wit ya!"
He winks, pulling down his pant leg. He doesn't feel so ashamed about his legs anymore. Not with the way Greyson reacted to them. He's glad that the other boy didn't find them weird like most do.
"How 'bout ya ask me sumthin' crazy now? Don' want ya ta think tha' I get all tha privilege in askin' personal stuff."
“Hm. What's the worse thing you've done to someone? If you can't think of anything, then what do you think is the worst?” Greyson didn't like how much faith Vince had in him. Would he still think the same after seeing the case files?
The sight of her still haunts his nightmares, he has a feeling that she'll never forgive him even when he's dead.
"Me? Ah... well, wouldn't call m'self a very bad guy. Most ah'd say is driven' summon ta madness with da way I get all competitive sumtimes," Vince chuckles. Him and his family aren't really ones to harm anybody; they've all been called sweethearts at least once in their lives. Except two people of the bunch, but even then they're trying to change.
A satanist and a cannibalist. An unhealthy duo.
"N' wha 'bout you? R' should I ask a differen' quest'n?"
Vince takes another smoke, looking at Greyson inquisitively. Maybe he did something bad in the juvenile detention of his. He wouldn't very much mind if it's in the past.
“I did something that hurt one of my friends and I still feel horrible about it. It was my idea, and I didn't think anyone would get hurt.” Blood. So much blood. He didn't know a person had that much in them.
Is it better or worse that he's glad it was her and not anyone else?
He looks one minute away from just shoving his cigarette into his mouth and eating it.
“Ah, don't tell anyone, but I'm still supposed to be serving time.”
Vince almost judges, but then he stops and rethinks. Judging? Really? In his predicament? No.
"I won' tell. An' if ya don' wanna tell what happen' tha' day either, tha's a-okay. But jus' kno' tha you n' I, well, we're in tha same situation. So if 'ya ever wanna tell me 'bout tha, I could tell ya bout my siblings Marcy n Ophelia."
He smiles, trying to lighten the mood.
"How 'bout we move to sumthin a lil lighter? Like, eh... ah—HAH! Like crushes! Ya have a crush? R' do ya kno' bout any drama round here?"
“I don't have a crush on anyone, but for drama? I hear that there's a student in Diasomnia who is the reason for all of the strange white flowers popping up around campus.”
"Eh? Do ya know who tha student is? R do I gotta pay a fee ta kno'?"
Vince giggles, ruffling Greyson's hair as an excuse to get to touch him more. Vince had never really had a crush before, more prone to feeling familial things than anything else. But now, with this sweet, broken boy...
He didn't want to get too into it.
"I'm funny, ain't I? Say m' funny, R' I'll get Riddle ta chop ur head off," he teases.
“Well you're funnier than everyone in Pomefiore, I'll give you that. I don't know who the student is, I've just seen him around one of the third years. Uh, red hair, green eyes, really likes roses. I think his name is Briar. They're.. kind of weird.”
"Weird how?" Vince asks, tilting his head.
"'Cause ah'd say tha' we're weird, too. Is it like tha'? R' sumthin' different?"
He tilts his head, reaching out and snatching another fancy cigarette from Greyson. He chuckles, lighting the front with his mechanical finger like he had shown before. He then opens a hidden pocket in his arm, taking out two chocolate bites.
"Want? It ain't white. N' I've got otha stuff, 'f ya want. Jus' take a peek in ther'."
“Nah, I'll pass. I'm not really craving anything sweet right now.” Greyson tries to think of a more appropriate word for the two he's describing.
“Well the Diasomnia student doesn't... Well to put it plainly, he looks like he should be dead. One time I think I saw him remove his entire arm. For my upperclassman... I don't know. Something about his rose garden feels weird.”
Well, this didn't really go the direction he wanted it to, did it? He tried to lighten the mood, and now it's become even darker. He feels like an idiot.
"Tha's pretty wild. Neva knew of sumone who could do tha before."
Vince chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He hopes that Greyson will ask him a question, because he doesn't think that asking him so many things at a time is very appropriate. What else can he comment on? Think, think...
“Sorry, I'm bad at keeping things light. Uhm... What's your favorite cafe? Maybe we can go there sometime, my treat.” Greyson could really go for an iced caramel macchiato, especially with the weather warming up.
"Favorite cafe? Ta be hones', I don' usually go. How 'bout ya tell me urs? R we could even go there', if we're able ta."
After a second, he adds quickly:
"Only if ya wanna! 'S of course ur decisi'n! I don' mean ta be so forward 'bout these things. M' sorry."
Vince rubs his hand over his arm a few times. He hopes that Greyson isn't getting weirded out because of how forward he keeps being. But then again, going right about now to a cafe sounds like a good idea... to drink a smoothie from the same straw like 1980s rom-coms...
Sevens, what is he thinking?!
“There's this one in town I really like. They have these amazing pastries made with actual vanilla filling in them.” Grey's face practically lights up as he describes them, but uh... (Un)fortunately for Vince, Greyson doesn't seem to notice just how forward Vince is being.
Oof.
Greyson though, they were just happy to have a friend.
"Would ya maybe wanna go ther' right 'bout now? Would love ta try un!"
Vince smiles, already gathering his things to leave. If Vince knew Greyson even a little, he could already tell that someone like him would know the best way to sneak out of school. He's done it a few times himself, but maybe learning from a true expert would prove him well. Most of the times that he's done it, he's gone straight to detention.
"Promise tha' I won' let us get caught," he winks.
“Sure, why not. I've got my wallet on me anyway.” Greyson snuffs out his cigarette and tucks it back into the box, then stands up to stretch. His back cracks audibly in several different places, and they sigh while slumping just a tad.
“You promise? Well, then don't go breaking it. I don't like people who break promises.” It's lighthearted, paired with a smile, but Greyson knows just how hypocritical he was being by saying that.
finding pomefiore's resident disappointment
Greyson massaged the bridge of his nose as he slipped out of history class as soon as Professor Trein turned his back, footsteps light and quick as he retreated to his favorite spot in the courtyard. He sat down on a bench and pulled out his box of cigarettes, lighting one with a bit of magic and taking a long drag from it.
“Fucking finally.. I've been craving a smoke all day.” He mutters to himself, smoke drifting past his lips and curling into the air.
He thinks he's alone. But is he truly?
He's only halfway done with his cigarette when he hears the crunching of grass under shoes, and whips his head around, his void-like eyes wide with panic. He's absolutely dead if it's Vil or Rook who caught him, and even deader if Trein found him out here.
HURTS THE LUNGS, HURTS THE SOUL.
Vicente Cabro isn't well-known, but he isn't unknown, either. He's somewhere in the middle, and while he knows many people, he doesn't have a lot of them that he can call friends. Who knows— maybe Greyson Jude will be the one to become one of the rare people Vince calls a true friend. Maybe someone who isn't afraid to defy the rules is just what he needs.
Vince needs a break. He's only been in Night Raven College for a few months, and already he's getting overstimulated. He's never been away from his siblings for so long, the most being a day or two when he's out doing things. The absence of their chattering voices is jarring for him, and history class isn't really doing it for him when it comes to listening the growing ache in his heart. Stepping out of that stuffy classroom buzzing with energy and getting some fresh air for a few minutes is exactly what he needs right now.
Except the air isn't all that fresh. It's laced with smoke, something Vince can sense from a mile away. He's not unfamiliar with the smell—in fact, he even brought outside a pack of his own cigarettes, ready to use them to blow off some steam. Is there already someone smoking out here?
He steps forward, the grass beneath him shifting to hold his weight. When he gets closer, he tilts his head, recognizing their uniform. A Pomefiore student. And a young one, at that—a first year like him, maybe? Vince doesn't see many first years smoking like he does. This is new. And very welcome.
Vince comes closer, ready to join the other boy on the bench if he'd allow it, but he freezes when he whips his head around. He hadn't thought that he would scare the poor Pomefiore so badly.
"Ah... didn' mean t' startle ya', man. M' here for the same reason you are, if 'm bein' frank."
He takes out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, jostling them while his other hand moves to rub the back of his neck in an embarrassed gesture.
"Do ya' mind if I sit next t' ya'? M' not a tattletale or anythin', I swear."
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Greyson looks at Vince for a moment, his black almost soulless eyes seeming to pierce through Vince's very being, then he pats the spot beside him invitingly.
“You're in my class, aren't you? T'be honest, I didn't think anyone else would come out to escape from Trein's bullshit.” Grey mumbles around his cigarette, digging in his pockets for a moment and pulling out a lighter that he offers to Vince. They can just use magic, sure, but there was something nostalgic about using an ordinary lighter.
Well, as ordinary as a custom-made lighter could get. The mirror and forest motifs, alongside Greyson's name scrawled in cursive, is a dead giveaway that he has money or at least comes from it.
“You scared the shit out of me, coming up behind me like that. I thought it was Vil or Rook or Trein coming to rip me a new one.”
"Ah—that's right, ain't it? You n' I are in the same class. Well, M' sorry for scarin' ya' like that either way. Just wanted t' have a friendly smoke—I don' see many first-years willin' t' do that with me."
Vince takes his seat a comfortable distance away from Greyson, leaning his arm against the side of the bench. He takes one of his cigarettes out, murmuring a small "thank you" when the other boy hands him the lighter.
"Unless ya' ain't willin', which in that case, I'd be makin' a fool outta myself right now. M' pretty experienced in that... locale."
Vince turns the lighter over in his hands, reading the word engraved off to the side.
"Doesn't look like any regular lighter I've seen. N' those cigarettes, too—look like they come from 'n expensive brand, why don't they. D' ya' think they feel any different to smoke, at the end?"
He chuckles, lighting up his cigarette and handing the lighter back. He takes a puff, giving the smoke a minute to properly mix with he air before he asks another question.
"Care to tell me who Greyson is?"
“That'd be me. Greyson Jude, but people usually just call me Grey.”
“There's probably not much of a difference, but you can try one of mine if you'd like.” He offers, taking the lighter back and pocketing it before blowing smoke out into the air.
“I don't mind hanging out with someone while I smoke, it's just that there aren't many first years willing to. And what about you, hm? I don't think I remember Trein calling your name out during attendance.”
"I see. Grey it is, then. Nice t' meetcha, Grey."
Vince takes the offered cigarette gingerly, lighting it with the other cigarette he has on hand.
"Feel like 'm in the presence 'f riches, I do. Like 'm some poor weasel on the side 'f the road that's gettin' a whiff of the way the wealthy do it. Reckon 'm feelin' right?"
He smiles at his analogy, taking a whiff from this cigarette.
"Flows a little better, that's for sure. But at the end 'f the day, the relief is all the same. Thanks for letting' me try em' out, though."
Vince tilts his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles wistfully. It's not a surprise to him that this Greyson stranger didn't catch his name right off the bat—it's near-missable, unless you're actually looking out for it. Vince won't admit it out loud, but the other boy does look like the type to fully disregard anyone who won't give him something.
Maybe this exchange is different. Or maybe he's the victim.
"Name's Vicente Cabro, but everyone calls me Vince. Don't blame ya' for not recognizing it right off the bat. A pretty ordinary name, that one."
Vince offers his own cigarette box to him, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
"Any chance you wanna take a look at life over on the poor side? Give 'ya some humility, won't it."
“Eh, why the hell not?” It was only fair, right? Truthfully he does feel bad for not catching the other boy's name, but it was only because he's running on three hours of sleep and an iced coffee.
“Vince, hm? I wouldn't call it ordinary, if anything I think Greyson is more common, but it's a pleasure to meet you as well.” He hums with consideration after getting a whiff of the other's cig.
“There's definitely a difference, but like you said before: they bring the same kind of relief.”
Vince nods, stretching out his arm on the bench's back. His fingers brush Greyson's blazer, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"Right they do," he says simply, nodding as he brings the fancy cigarette up to his lips again. He looks back at the other boy, noticing the details in his uniform: the beret-like hat on his head, the accent necklaces, the earrings that are something new compared to what students at Night Raven College usually wear. It's cute, he thinks.
"I like what y' did with the outfit, by the way. Added 'ur own personal touch. That's nice."
He tips his cigarette over the bench, dusting some of the charcoal-dark particles off with his finger.
"What brings y' here, Grey? Something deep? R' just takin' a rest?"
“Thanks. I just thought it might be a nice way to make myself stand out a bit. Wearing uniforms takes away some of that self-expression.” Grey fidgets with one of the dangly earrings he has, one that's shaped like an arrowhead on a chain.
“It's just a certain smell in Trein's room that gives me a migraine, I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. And plus, I haven't had a smoke today until now. I just needed a break. You too, I'm guessing?”
"More 'r less."
Vince smiles faintly, but his eyes don't look like they're present in the conversation.
"'S hard for me to stay away from m' family for so long. I've been w' them for ages. I jus' got particularly overwhelmed today."
He watches Grey fidget with the earring, noticing that he might be uncomfortable. He hesitates before speaking his next words, voice careful.
"You wanna tell me how you got to this school? This college? Only if you wanna, of course."
He's praying to the sevens that Grey isn't uncomfortable with him. He's missed domestic stuff like this.
“To settle down, mostly. My mother travels for work and I never had the time to make real friends, plus I had several behavioral issues that often got me in trouble. I love my mother, I truly do, but sometimes it feels like she cares more about her job than me.” Greyson leans a bit into Vince, half-resting against the other boy's shoulder and throwing any worry of him being uncomfortable out of a metaphorical window.
“I'm honestly not all too sure what I want to do with my life. I believe my mother is some sort of... travel agent? I don't know. Last I checked, she was in Briar Valley and heading to the Coral Sea.”
Vince watches as Greyson leans in, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting this from the other boy, but, like everything, it's welcome with open arms.
Vince is a touchy person, and not having affection for months on end can make a touchy person go crazy. He used to get satiated easily, getting in a cuddle pile with his parents and siblings and watching a movie and play-fighting with them and sticking by their side. But now, this—barely a graze, an unconscious movement—is all the touch he can get anymore. It drives Vince mad, but he doesn't want to make a move and scare the poor boy. He... looses track of his limits sometimes, especially with unfamiliar things (or people).
"I understan' the feeling," Vince nods. "My parents used t' do the same thing, but t' a... more brash extent. But now I got brought into a lovin' family, n' I would never change 'em for anythin' else. Thing's get better, Grey. You can hold me t' it."
Vince looks down at his free palm, opening and closing it a few times. He pretends to do a cool magic spell, whacking it round and round as if he's doing something really powerful.
"Don' even have my UM yet. I wish, though."
His palm drops back to his lap.
"You have 'ur UM yet, Grey? Haven' seen one 'n action yet, so maybe 'd get 'ta know a thing r' two with 'urs."
“...I have mine, but it's not exactly... It's not something I'd want to use on a friend. It's invasive, I only ever use it if I really need to.” Greyson never received much affection during his childhood, and yet Vince.. This boy, this stranger he's just met.. Why was it so easy to tell him everything? It was almost baffling.
“I'm glad you have a better family, at the very least. It must be nice, having siblings. As far as I know, my closest relative is my grandmother, and I'm quite sick of hearing her preach about gender comformity.”
He laughs, but it's a little bitter. The Pomefiore student hides his wistful look behind another drag of his cigarette, which was already becoming a stub from use over time.
“I don't really think seeing people's deepest fears is someone I'd want to be known for, but it's not something I can really keep quiet for long.”
"Gender conformity? 'R ya' genderqueer, perchance? R' is it jus' because ya' dress a little feminin'?"
Vince takes a drag with him, the smoke from the two cigarettes hesitating before twisting and blending into each other. It's almost poetic.
"I don' care 'bout gender nonsense, don' get me wrong. I jus' wanna know what t' refer t' you by. Better t' tell me sooner than later, 'cause then I keep slippin' up."
Vince decides to be a little daring and press against Greyson's shoulder. Now, instead of a light graze, they're pressing into each other, however softly.
"Y' can see people's deepest fears? My, that's something', ain't it? Emotional UM's have alway's been m' preference compared t' physical ones. If y' eva' go haywire n' decide t' use it on me, I think I'd trust ya' w' the result. Ya' hear?"
“I might be genderqueer? Honestly, I have no clue. I just like to dress cute. And if cute means being a bit effeminate, then I guess that's what I'm rocking with. I do use masculine pronouns, maybe they/them too? I haven't really questioned it much. I just like what I like.” Grey shrugs, smile a little brighter now. His head is almost entirely resting on Vince's shoulder now. He always gets sleepy when he smokes, like it was some kind of curse for having a nicotine addiction.
“So that's your preference.. Well, your trust isn't misplaced, at the very least. Unless you decide to throw me in a fountain or something. I'm a little bit petty like that.”
"Well, you'll be happy t' kno' that I won't be throwin' anybody in any fountains anytime soon. That, you can count 'n"
Vince chuckles, letting Grey rest on his shoulder all he wants. He's itching to get closer, longing to get the affection he heeds. But he's able to controls himself and take another puff instead.
"How 'bout I use they/them on you from now on? So y' can see when one y' like better?"
Don't get ahead of 'urself, Vince. He don't mean anythin' by this. Stay calm.
"N' for me, you can use sum' usual he/him, by the way. To let 'ya know."
His fingers curl tighter around the cigarette.
“Mkay. I think I like that, using both. He and they. Feels right.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette, then snuffs it out and puts it back in the box so he's not littering.
“Glad to know that I won't be expecting any surprise baths from you, at least.”
"He n' they it is."
A comfortable silence wraps around the two boys. Or, comfortable for Greyson, at least—Vince is internally panicking, scrambling to find something else to talk about. He's usually good at this. Why can't he be good at this right now?
"Ya' told me a bit 'bout your home life, so 'll tell you 'bout mine 'n return," he blurts a little faster than usual. A weak conversation starter in the sense that it's obvious, but a conversation starter nonetheless.
"'M adopted. Grew up young n' a shit family, not very important. Got adopted by m' momma n' my mom n' my papa n' my dad when I was twelve. Ya' heard right: four. 'S a polycule, n' they adopted four children n' had five t' go with 'em. M' the seventh r' eighth, pretty sure."
Vince chuckles, ruffling Greyson's hair lightly as a thought occurs to him.
"If ya' ever wanna break from break from ur' momma, I'd be glad t' share one of mine. Y' can come over to my house, so long as y' don' mind doin' dirty work. 'Cause we live at a farm."
His beret is displaced by the ruffling, and he gives Vince a pout as he fixes it back into place. He looks contemplative for a moment, his hand going back up to fidget with that same earring, then hums. Not a response, but a consideration.
“I'm not one to shy away from dirty work, but I'll warn you now that I burn like dry grass in a heatwave.” It's a kind offer, one that he's never been given before. Usually people were too wary of him to get close.
“I think it'd be nice, staying in such a full house. I've never experienced what having siblings is like.”
"Ah, yes. Think it'll be real bondin' if we shovel cow manure t'gether!"
Vince laughs out loud, the worry from being away from his siblings for long slowly fading away. This boy—this sweet, quiet boy, really had an effect on Vince. Greyson was able to bring Vince back to normal even while they're talking about family.
A kind person, indeed. Vince would have to try his hardest to befriend Greyson.
"Reckon you'll have fun, though. 'll put you with sum' easier jobs, n' at the end, we could go do something' fun. Moms n' dads won't let you r' me leave without a fight."
A blush creeps up Vince's cheeks. There it is. He's lost his limits, and is inviting practically a stranger over to his house. What's up with me?! I can't be so bold alluva sudden!
"'Course, if 'ya want to, that is. N' even then, I'd like to get t' know 'ya sum' more."
“I'd have to convince Mother. But I would like that, even if just to get away from the Queendom for a while.” If one were to look close enough, a pink flush on the tips of Greyson's ears could be seen.
Easy to fluster under all the so-called aloofness. No one ever tries to approach them, and Vince might just be the first.
“You're sweet. Makes me unable to function properly. No one is ever this nice to me.”
Vince laughs heartily again, an amused glint in his eye. Greyson is oddly easy to read. When Vince first approached, he thought that Greyson would be one of the difficult, poker-face types. Turns out that he's just a bit shy.
"N' why would that be? You're adorable! Nevr' get people, really. Always judgin' for no reason."
Vince slaps Greyson's shoulder a few times, in a teasing, playful manner. He's grinning from ear to ear, happy that Greyson is happy and also so close to him.
"Thank's for the compliment, tho'. Most uvda kids here been screamin' 'm' stoic n' with a fragile ego' everywhere I look. Appreciate someone who can admit stuff jus' like that. "
Definitely shy, but definitely bold in his own ways. He can't seem to take gratitude properly, instead fidgeting with the hem of Vince's sleeve. He runs a finger up the length of the other boy's arm and then gives him a small smile.
“I'm adorable, huh? I think that might be a new word used to describe me. You're easy on the eyes too, Vince.”
Obvious? Yes. But Mother always said to go after the things he wants before they escape him.
And well...
Vince's eyebrows raises his eyebrows, scoffing.
"'Easy n' the eyes?' I've been called more uva hunk in my lifetime. But thank 'ya, Grey."
He looks down, watching Greyson's finger as it trails up his metal arm. He extends his fingers, showing the arm off a little bit.
"Does it look odd to 'ya, Grey? 'S a prosthetic arm, if 'ya couldn't tell. Got this while I was fulla bullshit. Still full bullshit now, but I can control myself. 'Nough."
Vince grabs one of his poor cigarettes, the newer one that Greyson gave him kicked to the curb long ago. He twists his finger, and a soft flame bursts from the tip of it, which he uses to heat up the front of the cigarette.
"Neat, ain't it? Put it there myself. 'M a bit of a metalworker, so t' speak. If 'ya ever need sumthin' metal done, don't be shy."
The way Greyson's pupils dilate at the sight of the flame is captivating, like gaining the trust of a reclusive creature enough for them to eat from your palm.
“...Yourself, huh? It suits you, makes you all the more charming, non?” He doesn't know why he slips into a different language, maybe it's from being in such proximity to Rook, or maybe his childhood lessons finally have reason to be used, but there are just some words that English doesn't contain to describe this.
“Une œuvre d'art. A work of art. Your arm, that is. Though that's not to say that you aren't also a work of art- Aïe, je suis en train de me creuser ma propre tombe.”
Grey goes silent, praying to the Seven to give him strength, and wills the warmth on his cheeks to retreat.
“What I mean to say is, your talent, precision, and dedication are works of art.”
Real smooth, Jude.
"Oh, 'd say that m' arm's a real piece of art, too. The rest 'f me, not so much. 'd like ta' say 'm a... more uva statue, maybe. R' someone on an emblem. R' on a coin."
Vince waves his hands around, being all showy in an exaggerated way to try and get this guy to laugh. He's not all that egoistical, so it's obvious that what he's saying is all just a joke. When Grey gives him a funny look, Vince can't help but burst into laughter all over again, slapping Grey on the back hard. Not enough to make a dent, but enough to make that cute pouting face again.
When Grey starts speaking French, though, Vince blanks, freezing in place.
"...Ah? What's up with the French? I don' speak a lick 'f French, 'll have 'ya know. Coulda' call'd me a slur, 'nd I'd have no clue!"
Vince snorts, grinning from ear to ear. It's true—he doesn't know not one bit of any other language besides the one he was born saying. The only French words he does know would be stuff like "oui oui" and "bonjour," and even then he would butcher them horribly (wei wei and bonejauhr).
"Care t' translate, 'r should I stay not knowin'? Could do that too, long as you pinky promise that ya' won't spew no shit 'bout me behind m' back."
“I said I was digging myself a grave. I'm not the best with words.” Grey smiles sheepishly, his earlier pout from when Vince slapped him on the back.
“You'd be able to tell if I was cussing you out in French, I promise.” His fingers twitch when he says that, like he's considering reaching up and playing with his earring again. It calmed him when he was embarrassed, though he's got not a clue why that's so.
“R’ ya’ sure ‘bout that? M’ not kiddin’ ‘round when I tell ‘ya that I don’t know nuthin’ ‘f French.”
Vince noticed Grey almost going to fiddle with his earring again, and decides to take a bold move and place his mechanical hand gently on top of Grey’s. He chuckles at the other boy’s sheepishness, winking at him as he speaks.
“Think ‘ur good with words, tho’. Ain’t have nobody call me a work ‘f art in this lifetime. N’ I don’t think nobody’ll ever tell me it like you did.”
So much care around the words. So much tenderness, even though they’re technically not even friends yet. Vince wonders why that is, but drops it after a few seconds of pondering. It’s probably just out of formality.
“How ‘bout you tell me ‘bout a curse word, so I can seem real cool when I cuss ‘em out usin’ sum French? Think ‘ll look badass?”
Greyson audibly squeaks when he feels Vince place a hand over his, face turning bright red once again. Well fuck.
“I think you'd only be impressive if you knew more than just a few curse words, but alright. Though in my opinion, the best insults are the ones you don't need to use swears.”
Vince laughs out loud at the squeak, but he makes sure that Greyson’s actually comfortable with what he’s doing. His eyes rake over Greyson’s form, deciding to keep his hand there and not push any further to see what else the other boy will do. For a minute, Vince wishes that he could get Grey’s flushed face on camera…
“Mmm… We’ll, if ‘ya think that way, then how ‘bout ya’ give me a real authentic French insult? One that’ll get someone’s boots shakin’, so I can tell it to ‘ur haters n’ have ‘em runnin’ for their lives?”
He snickers at the thought, but he’s not really kidding. If anyone was fucking around with Greyson, Vince would be very sure to give them a piece of his mind. It’s what friends do, of course.
Greyson had only been surprised, he truly didn't mind. He could also feel the way Vince's eyes traveled over him, almost shivering.
“Avoir le QI d’une huître. It means that to have the IQ of an oyster. One of my favorites, personally.” Grey smiles, a bright little thing that makes the world feel just a little bit brighter.
“There's also 'Con comme une valise sans poignée.' It means 'as stupid as a suitcase without a handle.'”
"A suitcase without no handle 's pretty stupid!"
Vince laughs, patting Grey on the back for the good insults. He tries to say the insult in French—"cone conmeh uhn valaisw sans po-ih-knee?"—but butchers it terribly and has to watch as Grey laughs in his face.
"Wha—hey! M' pronunciation ain't tha' bad! V' never dun this befor'!"
He's not offended by it, though. Vince laughs along with Grey, but pauses when he catches sight of that pretty smile. My, Sevens...
"Ya'know, after seein' it n' person, m' thinkin' you should smile a little more. Suits 'ya. Brings out yer eyes."
He takes out his phone, opening the camera app.
"Cm'ere. Lemme show ya'."
He puts them two into the frame, grinning wide.
“Your French isn't too bad for a beginner.” Greyson praises, only to blink in surprise when Vince takes out his phone.
He flushes at the compliment to his smile, but sheepishly looks towards the camera while placing a hand on Vince's shoulder.
For a moment, he looks a little hesitant to smile, but when he does it's just as sweet as the one he gave to Vince moments before.
"There 'ya go! D' ya see tha' cute thin'?"
Vince shows Greyson the photo, zooming into his face. Whether or not Greyson sees anything different in himself, it's clear that Vince sees a lot in him.
"'Dorable! Ya'd really be a hot shot, if ya did tha' 'round more people. Good thin' that ya' ain't, 'cause I kinda wanna keep tha' perfect smile all to m'self."
Vince sends the photo to his family group chat before putting the phone into his pocket. The action rides his pants down just a tad, but what's really curious is the white fur peeking underneath. He doesn't seem to realize this, nor the implications of what he just said.
"Do 'ya wanna pictura 'f me, too? 'Could pose all pretty fo' ya. Well—ima try m' best, that's fo' sure."
Greyson visible short circuits, face steadily turning as red as Riddle's hair. His heart is racing for reasons he can't identify properly, with the source of this reaction all coming from the boy seated next to him.
“I-” His throat feels dry. Why does it feel dry?
“You wouldn't have to pose, you're pretty as is.” He mutters, too flustered to notice the fur as he takes out his own phone cups Vince's face with his free hand.
It seems like he's perfectly fine with taking pictures with other people as long as he's not the main subject of it. He stares at the photo for a very long time, then pockets his phone after sending it to someone.
Who?
Who knows. There wasn't a contact name.
:)
Vince sticks out his tongue in an attempt to look silly, cheeks puffed out in a wide smile. When he's allowed to move again, he tries to look over, but Greyson doesn't let him since he doesn't want the other boy to see who he's sending it to.
"Wha—hey! Whos' that, eh? Ya' beter not be sendin' stuf t' sum rando who'll mock me fo' tha' arm o' mine!"
Vince pouts after realizing that he's really not going to be allowed to see who he's texting, but then his eyes light up when an idea crosses his mind.
"Ah! Didya want my magicam n' that number o' mine, Grey? M' happy t' give it t'ya! I post sum stuff n' there, f' ya'd like t' take a look!"
He looks excited to share it. Greyson can't say no to those puppy eyes.
“Simply a friend of mine. I keep forgetting to save her contact.” Either way, he nods when Greyson asks if he could share his socials.
“Oui, I want to keep in touch with you. It's too easy to lose people in this school.”
"Sure! Jus' type in 'ere 'V1nce.xz', n' it'll probably pop up!"
That's what Greyson starts with, typing the handle into magicam to find the account. When he clicks on the profile picture of a cat hiding in the bushes of a forest, he can already spot a picture from Vince at the gym peeking out from under his bio.
"I could type ma numba for ya, if ya'd like! Y' could put whateva profile picture ya' wanna on there! N' y' don' mind me taggin 'ya n' stuff, d'ya?"
Vince tilts his head, clearly oblivious to the thoughts running through Greyson's mind.
Greyson follows the account, immediately liking the most recent post.
“I don't post much on my account, aside from things I find while skipping. But I don't mind if you tag me. I'll put in your phone number too, just because.”
"Sure! Ima tag 'ya in a whole buncha stuff now, just 'cause 'ya said yes. Just for 'ya t' keep n' eye out."
Vince takes Greyson's phone, inputting the number and putting his name as "VINCE!!". He then sends a test text to himself (labeled as Testing!! Testing!! 123!) and then checks his own phone (responding with It worked!!)
"It worked!" Vince exclaims out loud, looking up from his phone.
"'ll be textin' ya 24/7, too. Any sorta pref as ta' what ya' want ur profile pic n' ur name ta' be?"
Vince hands Greyson the phone for him to input it himself.
“No preference. Though you can't go texting me at two in the morning now, or Vil will have my head for disturbing my roommates.” Grey teases as he inputs his phone number into Vince's phone (after double-checking it).
All he sent?
<3
"Awe, r' ya' serious 'bout that? two AM is prime time fo' textin' n' chattin'!"
He check his prone for the test text message, lighting up when he sees the heart.
"Tha's such a cute heart! 'Ur softer than I thought! D'ya text everyon' a heart, r' am I a special lil' fella?"
Vince chuckles, texting back a small emoticon: (*U*). He stares at his phone more, waiting for a new text to pop up from Greyson. He's liking this silent game. He thinks it's cute.
“It was the first thing I thought of...”
He replies to the emoticon with one of his one: (*´ω｀*)
“I don't text a lot, really. I forgot how much I liked emoticons.”
"Gahdayum, did 'ya make that? Tha's very creative, 'f I do say so m'self!"
Greyson fiddles with the keyboard, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tries to make one by himself. Greyson tries to speak, but Vince won't let him until he's conjured up the perfect kaomoji to use.
"Eh... ahah! 'Think I got it!"
He sends the one he made along with a few variations, grinning like a proud father when he finishes and sits back.
\ (// `u` //) /
\ (// `_` //) /
\ (// `0` //) /
\ (// `^` //) /
“Oh those are so cute. You're good at making kaomojis.” Greyson hearts all of the kaomojis Vince made, though the emoji he uses isn't a heart but rather a spiderweb...
Vince lets out a smug "hmph!" and tilts his chin up, proud. He loves to show off hone it comes to the people that he likes, and he loves even more to get praise for it.
"Thank 'ya! Ya can use 'em if ya... huh?"
Vince looks down at his phone, noticing that Greyson hearted all of the kaomojis with spiderwebs. He tilts his head, squinting to make sure that he was seeing right.
"'S thatta spiderweb?"
Vince looks back up, eyes filled with wonder.
"Wha' kinda reaction 's tha'? Means tha' ma lil' 'emojis r' old r' sumthin?"
“It's just something I do. I got bored of using normal hearts so I chose the spiderweb to be my personal version of a heart emoji. It works the same, I just prefer mine.” Admittedly, Greyson was a bit embarrassed about it. He chose it when he was younger, and it always just kind of stuck.
"N' folks still call 'ya intimidatin'? Ha!"
Vince laughs, abandoning his phone to reach out and pinch Greyson's cheeks. His touch is soft, but his hands are rough. Probably from days of working at the farm.
"What a cutie! Wouldda never thoughtta doin' somethin' so creative! How cute!"
Vince moves back, picking up his phone again. He taps his chin, scrolling through emojis until his eyes light up. He then proceeds to like all of Greyson's texts, but instead of a heart, it's a leaf.
"Whaddya think 'f that? Neat, eh? I take it from ya'!"
“I can be intimidating when I want to be...” It's a flimsy excuse, but not a lie. He's ruined people's lives before.
“Awh that's cute. A leaf suits you.”
His cheeks are sore from Vince's pinching, even a bit red, but that's more from being called cute rather than the pinching.
"Uhuh. Sure 'ya can. 'S a-okay if ur a lil shy, ya'know."
Vince chuckles, now pressing into Greyson fully. He's open for a hug, he very much wants a hug, but he also doesn't want to push Greyson.
"Did'ja really wanna come ofer ta' ma' farm? R' wassat all sum joke?"
He grins, placing his head on Greyson's shoulder.
"Would love it 'f ya came. But we only jus' met."
His eyes light up as a new idea dawns on him.
"Whaddya say ya ask me a few questions, eh? N' I do the same ta ya! How about 'ya start?"
Vince looks at Greyson expectantly, giving him no room to conplain.
Greyson huffs with mock offense and lets his head fall onto Vince's shoulder.
“I don't joke lightly about wanting to escape my mother. I'd love to visit.” He admits, already itching for another cigarette. He doesn't wait long before he's grabbing another from his box and lighting it.
“Me first? Okay. Who's your favorite Housewarden besides your own?”
"Fave housewarden? Ahh... Well, a do like Kalim a bunch! He's such a sweetie. Jamil's a lil more iffy ta' me."
Vince presses his cheek against Greyson's head. He thinks about what question he could ask for a few seconds, taking out another cigarette of his own and asking the question when he the smoke in his mouth caught with the air.
"Aha! Em... wha's tha' guilty preasure of yours? Hope 'm sayin' it right. Neva asked sumone before."
“Anything with white chocolate.” Greyson replies, then takes a drag from it. The taste lingers, like it usually does.
“Right back at you: what's your guilty pleasure?”
"Me? Ah... ah'd say... well."
Vince snorts, getting a little shy now. He usually doesn't reveal things like this right off the bat, but... oh, hell. Vince trusts Grey enough for this.
"Ya might find it stupid, but I do like ta' dance. Think I look like tha' dancin' type, Burt not fo' tha type dancing tha' I do. 'Cause I do pole dancin'."
He nudges Greyson playfully, winking.
"White chocolate's all? C'mon, Grey— ya ain't got nuthin more 'guilty' than tha'? Won't tell a soul, ya' know."
“Well I don't think chain smoking three packs a week is a guilty pleasure if I'm not guilty about it. I guess I really don't have anything.” Greyson tries not to think about the math of that.
He instead focuses on the part Vince said about pole-dancing, then immediately cuts that line of thought when it treads into 'i wouldn't mind watching him poledance' territory.
Vince's smile wavers a little. Three packs a week? Vince may smoke, but not three packs a week. He doesn't mention it yet, but he knows that at some point he's going to have to do something about it. Smoking that much at Greyson's age gets him nervous.
"Well, m' gonna need a lil more from ya. How 'bout... a secret? Here— 'll give ya mine first. Fair 'change."
Vince taps his chin, thinking about a good secret to give him.
"Ah. 've gotta good 'un. N' if ya come to da farm, ur gonna see 'em anyway."
Vince chuckles nervously, rolling his pant legs up to reveal white fur. His face turns a little redder as he speaks.
"Goat legs."
“Huh. Neat.” Greyson genuinely didn't care if Vince had goat legs, someone in Pomefiore was literally covered in scales because of a faulty transformation potion. And what was the point of being in a magical school if you didn't meet some strange people?
“A secret of mine? Hm...” Greyson takes another drag of his cigarette while he thinks, searching for anything that he might categorize as a secret.
Oh.
Well. There's that, of course.
But...
No, too soon.
“Not so much as a secret but it's something I'm ashamed of. I used to run with a pretty bad group in middle school and it got me sent to a juvenile detention center more than once.”
"Well, I'll be! Ya ain't so innocent as I thought, eh?" Vince laughed. He didn't look too fazed. He has met more than a few people who had done bad things in their lives and were trying to get better. He suspected that Greyson was the same way.
He could only hope, anyway.
"N' I suspect 'ur gettin' better, no? 'Cause 'ur real nice n' amazin'! M' enjoying' ma time wit ya!"
He winks, pulling down his pant leg. He doesn't feel so ashamed about his legs anymore. Not with the way Greyson reacted to them. He's glad that the other boy didn't find them weird like most do.
"How 'bout ya ask me sumthin' crazy now? Don' want ya ta think tha' I get all tha privilege in askin' personal stuff."
“Hm. What's the worse thing you've done to someone? If you can't think of anything, then what do you think is the worst?” Greyson didn't like how much faith Vince had in him. Would he still think the same after seeing the case files?
The sight of her still haunts his nightmares, he has a feeling that she'll never forgive him even when he's dead.
"Me? Ah... well, wouldn't call m'self a very bad guy. Most ah'd say is driven' summon ta madness with da way I get all competitive sumtimes," Vince chuckles. Him and his family aren't really ones to harm anybody; they've all been called sweethearts at least once in their lives. Except two people of the bunch, but even then they're trying to change.
A satanist and a cannibalist. An unhealthy duo.
"N' wha 'bout you? R' should I ask a differen' quest'n?"
Vince takes another smoke, looking at Greyson inquisitively. Maybe he did something bad in the juvenile detention of his. He wouldn't very much mind if it's in the past.
“I did something that hurt one of my friends and I still feel horrible about it. It was my idea, and I didn't think anyone would get hurt.” Blood. So much blood. He didn't know a person had that much in them.
Is it better or worse that he's glad it was her and not anyone else?
He looks one minute away from just shoving his cigarette into his mouth and eating it.
“Ah, don't tell anyone, but I'm still supposed to be serving time.”
Vince almost judges, but then he stops and rethinks. Judging? Really? In his predicament? No.
"I won' tell. An' if ya don' wanna tell what happen' tha' day either, tha's a-okay. But jus' kno' tha you n' I, well, we're in tha same situation. So if 'ya ever wanna tell me 'bout tha, I could tell ya bout my siblings Marcy n Ophelia."
He smiles, trying to lighten the mood.
"How 'bout we move to sumthin a lil lighter? Like, eh... ah—HAH! Like crushes! Ya have a crush? R' do ya kno' bout any drama round here?"
“I don't have a crush on anyone, but for drama? I hear that there's a student in Diasomnia who is the reason for all of the strange white flowers popping up around campus.”
"Eh? Do ya know who tha student is? R do I gotta pay a fee ta kno'?"
Vince giggles, ruffling Greyson's hair as an excuse to get to touch him more. Vince had never really had a crush before, more prone to feeling familial things than anything else. But now, with this sweet, broken boy...
He didn't want to get too into it.
"I'm funny, ain't I? Say m' funny, R' I'll get Riddle ta chop ur head off," he teases.
“Well you're funnier than everyone in Pomefiore, I'll give you that. I don't know who the student is, I've just seen him around one of the third years. Uh, red hair, green eyes, really likes roses. I think his name is Briar. They're.. kind of weird.”
"Weird how?" Vince asks, tilting his head.
"'Cause ah'd say tha' we're weird, too. Is it like tha'? R' sumthin' different?"
He tilts his head, reaching out and snatching another fancy cigarette from Greyson. He chuckles, lighting the front with his mechanical finger like he had shown before. He then opens a hidden pocket in his arm, taking out two chocolate bites.
"Want? It ain't white. N' I've got otha stuff, 'f ya want. Jus' take a peek in ther'."
“Nah, I'll pass. I'm not really craving anything sweet right now.” Greyson tries to think of a more appropriate word for the two he's describing.
“Well the Diasomnia student doesn't... Well to put it plainly, he looks like he should be dead. One time I think I saw him remove his entire arm. For my upperclassman... I don't know. Something about his rose garden feels weird.”
Well, this didn't really go the direction he wanted it to, did it? He tried to lighten the mood, and now it's become even darker. He feels like an idiot.
"Tha's pretty wild. Neva knew of sumone who could do tha before."
Vince chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He hopes that Greyson will ask him a question, because he doesn't think that asking him so many things at a time is very appropriate. What else can he comment on? Think, think...
“Sorry, I'm bad at keeping things light. Uhm... What's your favorite cafe? Maybe we can go there sometime, my treat.” Greyson could really go for an iced caramel macchiato, especially with the weather warming up.
"Favorite cafe? Ta be hones', I don' usually go. How 'bout ya tell me urs? R we could even go there', if we're able ta."
After a second, he adds quickly:
"Only if ya wanna! 'S of course ur decisi'n! I don' mean ta be so forward 'bout these things. M' sorry."
Vince rubs his hand over his arm a few times. He hopes that Greyson isn't getting weirded out because of how forward he keeps being. But then again, going right about now to a cafe sounds like a good idea... to drink a smoothie from the same straw like 1980s rom-coms...
Sevens, what is he thinking?!
“There's this one in town I really like. They have these amazing pastries made with actual vanilla filling in them.” Grey's face practically lights up as he describes them, but uh... (Un)fortunately for Vince, Greyson doesn't seem to notice just how forward Vince is being.
Oof.
Greyson though, they were just happy to have a friend.
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
[He stares at Nick, surprised clearly at the quick whirl of movements. Kit will neither confirm nor deny whether seeing Nick on one knee apologizing like so made him slightly blush. He shook his head, dropping to one knee too and gently placing a hand on Nick’s.]
“Don’t apologize, Kitty… I ain’t mad, this isn’t your fault.”
“I still broke it.” Nicholas lets go of Kit's hand to hug them again, definitely not willing to let go of his only friend.
“You're my only friend. If I can't keep a simple promise like promising to not leave because I let myself get transported to the Victorian era, then what kind of friend am I.”
[Kit admired the artisan’s work in the shop, holding it carefully in his hands. He still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up all the way back here, that book was a strange one he would surely like to learn more about but it was no where to be seen!]
[From what he could gauge this was the Victorian Era and the town was named Nuevo Jórvik. The name didn’t ring a bell but he was to continue his research anyways until he spotted a familiar face…]
“Nick!!”
— ⤷ @winterwhxspers ⋮ as is crafted by Locket ‘Kit’ Maestri ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Kit!” Nicholas is hugging him in merely moments, then dropping to one knee in front of his dear friend and pressing his forehead to the back of Kit's hand.
“I am so terribly sorry for breaking my promise to you, it wasn't at all on purpose.”
