𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩.

dependent blog for #francehq.

[rcsplendent]

                                            ♕    ♔    𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄  𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.    ♛    ♗

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐊𝐒𝐄𝐈  𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐎𝐕  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙘𝙡𝙮𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙘. " 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚.  34 ,  sebastian  stan.   intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐑  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙩. " 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝.  27  ,  joe  keery.           intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐆𝐎 𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐀  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚. " 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐲. 46 ,  gabriel luna.           intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  '  𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄  '  𝐖𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐑  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧. " 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚.  23 ,  froy  gutierrez.           intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩. " 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝. 30 ,  havana rose liu.           intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚. " 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚. 27 ,  jannik schümann.           intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎  𝐏𝐀𝐙𝐙𝐈  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤. " 𝐝𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.  30 ,  aaron taylor johnson.           intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐎  𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐀  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙮𝙩𝙚. " 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐝'𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.  45  ,  pedro  pascal.            intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐍  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙩. " 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚. 26 ,  logan lerman.           intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

𝐘𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎  —  " 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙. " 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐧. 33 ,  andrew koji.           intro  ,  interactions  ,  face ,  musings  ,  pinterest  board.

[aresenics]

the hot wax of a radiating sun hits freckled skin in waves, chest flush with a dark curve of healing ink, the patter of paws tumbling through heavy sand in frivolous hops. he'd taken the time to exercise both parties with a quick run, sweat dripping from the line of his brow as they close in. there's always a terror that sneaks between the ridges of his brain — it's all a dream. the moment someone's shaking his shoulders, this alternate world is snatched from underneath. there's a comfort none other than the crash of salty waves can bring, knowing what's brought forth on land will be washed back in at the lick of salt. the swell of his heart manifesting in the beachhouse that still stands before him, built by the hands of his fathers in bleeding labor & abhorrent devotion. wolfram is taking a moment, for the first time in a while, to drink in the prospect of being deserving of such luck. an unnerving thought that draws further out as he watches them clink their glasses from their place on the couch, vero mumbling something that elicits a hardy laugh from his husband, face reddening with a shy flush as they move in closer; closer than thought humanly possible. eyes are snatched away at the shameless crooning from his lover, hands encompassing small digits with a warm rumble, sitting beside him & allowing his legs to stretch out, the ache & burn of a good run causing a wincing lilt at the corner of his lip.

[aresenics]

there's a yip & mottle of fur that zooms past them at the question, thick fur accosting them both with the splash of dirty water & sand, an irritable furrow of brows thrown in the russian's direction. ❝ i'd say so, yeah, ❞ he mutters, wiping at the remnants that sprinkle across his nose, blending with the sunspots that rise. the sentiment of sasha's yearning after a mere forty minutes doesn't go unnoticed, yet he moves past with a nervous hum ( still getting the hang of accepting such sweet verbiage ) & letting their eyes meet. wolfram's plucking the joint & inhaling with a vigor only met by the intensity of sasha's everpresent want, knowing full & well that the heartbeat threatening to stampede through his chest makes his skin all the more hotter. the coast had done the older man good. really good. added a natural pink to his cheeks, a tanner tone to once porcelain flesh. ❝ you look . . . . nice," he states, as calmly & factual as he would anything else. thick fingers push loose curls behind his ear, languid in their movements. ❝ but it won't stay that way if you don't put on sunscreen, huh ? ❞ he reprimands, eyebrow lifted & leaning close. a lie, of course. he's sure the youngest lukin is a figure molded by something divine & everlasting, sculpted with the intention to be admired by the masses decades from now & beyond, when he himself is long gone. a press of lips against sasha's cheek, then the slope of his nose, & at the bone of his chin, syrupy smooth as he tilts his head up to blow a ring of smoke through his lips. ❝ havin' a good time ? ❞

[rcsplendent]

𝐀   𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑   𝐎𝐅   𝐖𝐄𝐓   𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃   across   wolf's   freckled   face   has   sasha   hyena-cackling,   somehow   having   been   spared   from   the   onslaught   —   probably   because   wolf's   body   has   acted   as   a   shield,   but   nevermind   the   details   —   &   he   makes   quick   work   of   helping   to   wipe   away   the   mess   of   it.   it's   not   long   before   he's   swiping   the   pad   of   his   thumb   over   the   arch   of   the   younger's   brow   for   no   reason   other   than   to   touch   him,   a   fond   smile   pulling   at   plush   lips   as   he's   complimented   —   preening   like   a   cat   that's   been   petted   down   the   length   of   its   back,   a   flattered   flush   creeping   up   his   bare   chest  &   arriving   swiftly   at   the   apples   of   his   cheeks   a   moment   later.   the   same   comment   would   have   him   sneering   at   anybody   else   —   but   from   his   love,   it's   a   shot   of   pure   dopamine   straight   to   the   brain.   an   addiction,   through-and-through.   they've   been   this   way   for   some   years   now,   &   it   never   gets   old;   feeling   like   he's   won   every   time   wolf   looks   at   him   like   that.   like   he's   the   bane   of   his   existence   &   the   center   of   his   universe,   all   at   once,   wrapped   neatly   into   one   five-foot-ten   frame.    “   i   did   put   on   sunscreen,   ”    he   insists,   stubborn   as   usual,   one   delicate   hand   skating   its   way   up   the   plane   of   wolf's   bare   stomach,   broad   chest,   over   the   peak   of   wide   shoulders.   so   much   skin   laid   out   before   him,   &   he's   sure   it's   obvious,   the   way   his   gaze   grows   hungry   at   the   sight   of   it.   he's   never   been   subtle,   but   the   weed   makes   him   completely   indecent   about   it   —   leaning   forward   to   press   an   open-mouthed   kiss   to   the   jut   of   wolf's   collarbone,   making   his leisurely   way   towards   the   curve   of   his   neck.    “   when   we   got   here.   i'll   be   fine.   ”    nevermind   the   fact   that   it's   been   hours,   &   he's   growing   pinker   by   the   second;   a   sunburn   is   the   least   of   his   concerns   as   of   ten   seconds   ago.   a   contented   sound   as   he   feels   the   press   of   lips   to   his   cheekbone,   nose,   &   chin   —   a   match,   kindling &   gasoline,   fueling   him   to   curl   lithe   arms   around   his   lover's   neck,   pulling   him   in   &   down   as   he   flattens   onto   his   back   once   more.    “   the   best,   ”    he   purrs,   nuzzling   his   nose   against   wolf's,   eyes   drooping   in   delight   as   he   draws   in   the   delivered   smoke   like   it's   an   instinct   he   was   born   with.   exhales   it   off   to   the   side,   but   wastes   no   time   in   continuing   to   brush   their   lips   together,   like   breathing   wolf's   air   is   the   one   &   only   objective   he   has   in   life   (   which,   to   be   fair,   isn't   far   off   from   the   truth   ).    “   remind   me   to   thank   your   parents   when   we   go   back   in,   yeah   ?   ”    a   lazy   kiss   stolen   off   wolf's   lips,   then,   arms   tightening   python-like,   pulling,   trying   his   damndest   to   get   the   younger   closer,   hell   —   on   top   of   him   if   it's   necessary.       “   not   now,   though.   later.   ”    if   it   wasn't   clear   enough   by   the   way   he   lets   one   hand   roam   up   into   the   fluffy   hair   at   the   back   of   wolf's   head,   anchoring   itself   there   &   tugging,   while   the   other   begins   a   meandering   journey   southwards,  starting   with   his   chest.

[aresenics]

there's not much that can sway the facade that displays a certain stoicness, but the mention of his companion does it easier than anything else could. a tsk of a tongue in jealousy for the siblings that have tried for years on end to hook, line & sink at least a twitch of lip or a hint of tremor in timbre. but nothing. nothing at all. yet, the thought of hund laying about . . . believing to be forgotten. to be another nothing in the life of wolfram wagner. ' a simple nothing ' he's a fair player at making people feel. an act others believed he'd loved to commit. when in fact, he didn't. it was just easier. something he was unfairly good at. something that brought him too much comfort to change. especially now, as cerulean hues roam blank features for anything. there's not much he can say. which, isn't a surprise to anyone. but luckily the conversation has shifted from the soft movement that comes unnaturally, a feral instinct to touch, to be close without intending to. he pinches himself for it, eyes drifting from their place on sasha's own to the canine below once more. much obliged by a lick & bare of fangs, tongue lolling sideways. ❝ really ? ❞ his voice comes out far more boyish than he'd wanted it to, the disbelief of relief accentuating the concern in knitted brows. why anyone would willfully volunteer to look for a dog despite the absolute fucking catastrophe of nights that occured was unbeknownst to him. this sudden act of kindness was wrong. odd. he's shifting over with a wince, wanting nothing more than to search himself before they can get their hands on him. but the ball drops. there's a tension in the atmosphere that resurfaces. the attempt to remove himself from it, throw it back into sea chained to a two ton stone. the audible uncertainty that reaches sasha's tone causes him to glance back up, eye contact mean & stern in the way lids fall into half mast. not a care in the world despite the thrum of a beating heart that skydives into the vat of acid below his belly button. an effort to take control. about that night . . . ❝ don't, ❞ he warns, lowly, a gruff timbre akin to the growl of a nearing grizzly bear. he knows that sasha's been the only opponent to diffuse his anger, rid himself of becoming prey & pushing past the boundaries that wolf's put up. an attribute that's kept his attention fused to the younger lukin. now it's what causes his arm to outstretch & push him back, away from feeling what he'd felt that night.

[aresenics]

❝ we don't need to talk about it. ❞ gaze unwavering as his jaw clenches. however, the burling creature being what it's meant to be — an animal, feral in nature, unpredictable — is turning against him, black leathery lips pulling back in a vicious snarl. threatening every whim to put a stop to this conversation. it's striking at him with thick formidable claws, digging deep into the cavern of his chest. ❝ what happened is the last thing on my mind right now. you are the last thing on my mind. we have bigger fucking worries sasha. ❞ its incisors are sinking in & he's ready to bite back with a fearful fury. there's a certain nausea that comes with the effort of refusing to give in to the pain, one that stomps on his heart like an irritable insect. ❝ what happened was a mistake. ❞ oh, but it had been the opposite. entirely so. an act of desire, quiet yearning from the two that had acted out in timely fate. ready & willing to occur within a moments notice. a moment in the way the older man smiled with every flat joke that left the prince's lips, every slight of hand instinctively brushing against his own & leaving a trail of flames, every quickwitted response to the montone remarks that usually had others moving off for a more entertaining conversation — a win in wolfram's mind. what he'd always aimed for each time they'd tried to strike something. a yip from blini at a too - rough scratch behind her ear causes him to snatch his hand away, eyes returning to her apologetically despite her breezing past it with a cold snout to the knee. a metaphor almost, as he elicits a strong response from both handler & pet, though he refuses to return attention back to the former.

[rcsplendent]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐒𝐎   𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄   in   the   way   the   prince's   voice   pitches   up   after   being   told   his   beloved   companion   is   actively   being   searched   for   —   sasha   would   find   it   funny   if   he   wasn't   so   preoccupied   with   his   own   repentance   in   this   moment.   such   a   pristine,   boyish   hopefulness   coming   from   such   a   looming,   brooding   figure   as   wolfram   is   .   .   .   oxymoronic.   charming.   such   a   thought   makes   sasha   physically   recoil.   those   are   the   sort   of   feelings   that   got   him   into   this   mess.   a   fact   he's   swiftly   reminded   of   when   he's   so   suddenly   warned   not   to   press   further,   in   a   tone   so   deep   it   makes   his   bones   shake.   fills   him   with   a   primal   sort   of   fear   —   the   type   you   might   feel   at   the   slightest   twitch   of   movement   amongst   inky,   oily   waters   in   the   black   of   night   when   you're   already   waist-deep.   it   has   sasha flinching,   eyes   squeezing   shut   for   a   moment   as   he's   shoved,   wooden   arm   of   the   chair   punching   into   a   bruised,   bony   hip.   a   pained   wince   ensues,   nothing   more   than   a   twitch   of   cherubic   features   before   he's   back   to   that   same   half-uncertain,   half-desperate   expression:   eyebrows   furrowed,   gaze   intense.   the   pain   fuels   him,   stokes   the   coals   in   his   belly   into   something   vicious,   like   an   injured   animal   prodded.   he   has   no   fight-or-flight   response   —   he   knows   not   even   how   to   fawn.   sasha's   only   instinct   in   the   face   of   danger   is to   grin.   a   curious,   crow-like   tilt   of   his   head   as   he   allows   wolfram   to   snap   his   jaws   at   him.   patient,   unmoved   —   like   a   handler   waiting   for   a reactive   dog   to   settle   before   pressing   on.   knowing   full   well   what   this beast   of   a   man   is   capable   of &   still   believing   that   there   is   some   inherent,   long-buried   goodness   within   him   anyways.   he   lets   him   say   his   piece,  &   then   dwells   in   the   silence   afterwards   —   shoots   blini   a   concerned   look   when   she   yelps.   he   could   leave   it   there.   he   almost   does,   in   fact.   considers   getting   up   &   walking   out   &   going   home   to   russia,   letting   that   be   the   end   of   it   —   letting   the   prince   find   his   peace   in   unknowing.   they   might   even   be   able   to   patch   things   up   if   he   just   drops   it,   like   any   sane   person   would   do.   but   of   course,   sasha   has   only   ever   been   who   he   is,   & like   always,   he   goes   ahead   &   ruins   it.

[rcsplendent]

“   you   want   to   know   what   i   think   ?   ”    an   obviously   rhetorical   question,   just   above   a   whisper   —   the   only   evidence   of   the   frustration   roiling   below   his   diaphragm   in   the   slight   curl   of   his   lip.   he   leans   in,   slowly,   planting   a   hand   on   the   mattress   to   support   his   weight   as   he   shifts   out   of   his   chair.   closer,   closer   —   until   he's   inches   from   wolf's   face,   until   he   can   feel   the   angry   heat   radiating   off   of   him,   &   he   might   be   sick   in   the   head,   because   the   only   thing   he   can   think   about   it   how   he   wants   to   bask   in   it.   his   eyes   flick   carefully   between   wolfram's,   letting   him   steep   in   the   silence,   watching   him   shiver.    “   i   think   that   you're   a   filthy.   .   .   fucking   .   .   .   liar.   ”    stated   in   his   usual   soft,   lilting   voice,   the   same   he's   used   so   many   times   before   while   sharing   some   useless   fact   that   had   sprung   to   the   forefront   of   his   mind.   &   despite   his   signature   nonchalance,   his   stomach   churns,   knowing   what   chaos   he's   choosing   to   sow   —   a   nausea   brought   on   by   unchecked,   all-consuming   compulsion.    “   you   can't   stop   thinking   about   it.   it's   the   only   thing   you   think   about.   &   you   pretend   it   means   nothing   to   you.   but   it's   eating   you   alive.   isn't   it   ?   ”    another   tilt   of   his   head,   gaze   trailing   absently   down   to   the   curve   of   wolfram's   lips,   the   rapid-fire   thrumming   of   his   jugular   vein.   sasha   knows   what   he's   doing   —   sticking   his   hand   between   the   bared   teeth   of   a   furious   beast,   far   beyond   praying   it   won't   bite.   at   this   point,   he's   simply   hoping   his   blood   will  stain.    “   and   that's   fine,   wolf.   you   can   lie.   god   knows   i'm   a   liar,   too.   ”    sasha's   gaze   flickers   back   up   to   meet   the   prince's   rageful   stare,   his   own   half-lidded   in   something   like   acceptance.   his   fingers   curl   into   the   silken   sheets,   his   free   hand   moving   to   steady   himself   against   the   headboard   above   wolfram's   head,   caging   him   in.   this   is   the   end,   he   thinks   —   of   what,   he's   not   sure,   but   he   knows,   from   all   the   times   he's   ruined   things   before   &   all   the   times   he'll   ruin   things   after   now,   that   he's   not   getting   out   of   this   unscathed.    “   you   can   be   a   liar.   but   i   know   you.   &   you're   not   a   fucking   coward.   ”    

[rcsplendent]

closed  starter​​​​​​​   ⇢​​​​​​​  𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖔 𝖉𝖊 𝖑𝖆 𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖆. ( @aresenics ! )

𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . .  summer 2006 on a borrowed sailboat, around 10pm.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐁𝐎𝐗  𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒  𝐀  𝐓𝐖𝐎-𝐁𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎  𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐄  into  the  place  where  it  rests  against  his  chest  even  through  two  layers  of  fabric,  tucked  safely  within  the  pocket  of  his  flannel  —  a  sharp  contrast  provided  by  the  press  of  cool  metal  in  the  form  of  the  cross  he's  worn  since  he  was  a  child,  nestled  just  a  few  inches  away  against  his  sternum.  the  difference  in  temperature  grounds  him,  keeps  him  tethered  to  the  here  &  now  despite  how  he  could  vibrate  out  of  his  skin  at  any  moment.  a  cool,  clear  night  &  calm  waters  set  a  serene  backdrop  for  what's  about  to  happen  —  what  vero  has  no  idea  is  about  to  happen.  in  retrospect,  this  wasn't  diego's  wisest  of  plans.  practically trapping  his  beloved  —  flighty,  uncontainable  vero,  skittish  &  wily  by  nature  —  on  a  boat  out  in  the  middle  of  the  bay  so  he  can  pop  the  question.  diego  knows  little  about  where  vero  came  from,  but  wherever  it  was,  it  ingrained  within  him  an  instinctual  need  for  means  of  egress  —  always  with  his  back  to  the  corner,  dark  eyes  flitting  around  in  calm  cautiousness.  it  should  chill  him,  but  instead,  diego  finds  a  warmth  flooding  from  his  fingertips  to  his  cheekbones  at  the  idea  of  vero  bending  one  of  so  few  rules  he  has  in  order  to  spend  a  night  with  him  on  a  borrowed,  worn-down  sailboat.  “  they  should  be  visible  soon,  ”  diego  calls,  voice  strained  as  he  pulls  the  last  sail  in,  stationing  the  boat  amongst  a  sandbar.  he  hopes  —  prays  —  that  he's  chosen  the  right  night.  it's  only  once  a  year,  &  he's  gotten  it  wrong  before.  meticulous  planning  &  several  pairs  of  eyes  (  in  the  form  of  his  meddling  sisters  )  keeping  careful  watch  of  the  weather  leaves  him  fairly  confident  that this  is  it.  he  moves,  perhaps  a  little  bashfully,  to  the  bow  of  the  boat  where  vero  stands,  leaning  over  the  railing  to  peer  into  the  water.  diego  —  still  shy,  somehow,  even  after  a  year  of  learning  each  other  —  sidles  up  behind  him,  curling  one  strong  arm  around  the  smaller's  waist  to  gently  tug  him  backwards.  “  i'm  afraid  you'll  fall,  ”  an  admission  that  comes  out  meek,  as  if  it's  an  apology  for  even  attempting  to  control  vero's  movements.  a  concealed  adjustment  of  his  shirt  serves  as  a  subtle  attempt  to  assure  the  ring  is  still  safe  in  its  temporary  home  —  the  press  of  the  box  into  his  ribs  assures  him  so.  a  careful  move  to  spin  vero  in  his  arms,  an  awestruck  little  smile  on  his  face;  he  wonders  if  his  eagerness  betrays  him,  if  it's  obvious  that  his  nerves  are  alight  with  anticipation.  regardless,  he  leans  down  for  a  kiss,  overcome  with  a  devotion  so  intense  that  he  simply  can't  go  without  verbalizing  it  any  longer:   “  mi  amor,  ”  words  pressed  almost  urgently  into  vero's  lips  before  he  pulls  away  to  speak,  forehead  resting  gently  against  the  other  man's  temple.  “  i  know  it  hasn't  been  long  .  .  .  ”  .  .  .  &  if  he  wasn't  so  enraptured  with  the  man  in  front  of  him,  he  might've  more  quickly  caught  sight  of  the  way  the  water  around  them  begins  to  glow.

[rcsplendent]

closed  starter  . . .   wolfram  wagner.  @aresenics !

setting. . .    the  beach.  summer  2024. 

𝐒𝐔𝐍-𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐃  𝐅𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂  𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒  𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓  the  space  between  sharp  shoulder  blades  as  he  lies  back  on  the  beach  towel  they'd  sprawled  out  upon  their  arrival,  a  fresh  joint  caught  between  plush  lips  &  two  empty  beer  bottles  nestled  into  the  sand  nearby.  forty-five  minutes  under  the  afternoon  sun  coupled  with  the  bit  of  alcohol  in  his  bloodstream  equals  piebald  skin  rapidly  turning  various  shades  of  pink,  flushed  from  his  forehead  to  the  dappled  span  of  his  chest.  long  fingers  snatch  the  roll  &  his  arm  drops  lazily  to  the  side  as  he  inhales  sharply,  eyes  shut,  breathing  out  a  smooth  cloud  of  smoke  a  few  moments  later.  the  heat  has  him  feeling  spectacularly  sleepy  —  even  more  so  than  usual  —  feels  like  he  could  doze  off  at  any  moment  now,  with  the  peaceful  soundtrack  of  the  ocean  lapping  at  the  shore  some  fifty  feet  away  &  the  most  perfect  breeze  cooling  his  flushed  skin.  this  is  the  real  vacation.  ten  days  on  the  coast  in  wolfie's  parents'  house  sounded  lovely  on  its  own,  but  this  —  this  is  what  he'd  truly  been  looking  forward  to.  the  serenity  of  a  beach  town;  being  far,  far  away  from  the  city  (  that  he'll  start  to  bemoan  about  missing  right  around  the  halfway  point  of  their  vacation  );  the  lack  of  schedule,  cozied  up  in  bed  'til  two  in  the  afternoon  &  staying  up  'til  five  gazing  up  at  the  stars  they  never  get  to  see  back  home;  the  way  the  dogs  seem  to  know,  too,  that  this  is  a  special  occurrence.  speak  of  the  devil  —  sasha's  eyes  blink  open  at  the  incoming  symphony:  panting,  paws  pattering,  collars  jingling  as  the  dogs  bound  towards  him,  returning  from  their  walk  down  the  length  of  the  beach.  sash  lifts  his  head  &  grins,  props  himself  up  on  his  left  elbow,  cooing  to  greet  the  dogs  as  they  shove  their  noses  in  his  face,  kicking  sand  onto  the  blanket.    “  мои  милые.  ”    a  hand  on  each  of  their  fuzzy  heads,  scratching  behind  their  ears  as  they  snuffle  at  him,  pulling  a  boisterous  laugh  from  his  chest  before  they  tumble  off  to  engage  in  yet  another  wrestling  match.  approaching  not  far  behind  them  is  the  north  star  itself  —  or,  at  least,  sasha's  equivalent  of  such  a  thing  —  &  he  beams  at  the  sight  of  the  man,  sitting  up  a  bit  more  &  reaching  an  arm  up  to  lazily  grab  at  wolfie  once  he's  close  enough,  tugging  him  down,  insistent  &  greedy  in  his  affection  as  always.     “  baby,  ”    he  sing-songs,  pressing  his  forehead  to  the  side  of  wolfie's  face,  pressing  in  close  despite  the  way  the  heat  radiating  off  of  the  other  man  is  near-unbearable  with  the  sun  beating  down  on  the  both  of  them.  sasha  doesn't  care.  he'd  boil  alive  if  it  meant  staying  plastered  to  wolfie's  side  for  five  whole  minutes.    “  i  missed  you.  did  they  like  the  water  ?  did  they  swim  ?  ”

[pclarnights]

laughter  bubbles  past  her  lips  without  her  permission  once  the  house  of  cards  collapses  right  before  her  eyes,  unable  to  hold  it  in  despite  not  originally  setting  out  to  poke  fun  at  credence's  strong  attempt.  “  mm,  perhaps  being  an  architect  isn't  in  your  future  after  all  ?  ”  dahlia  teases  with  a  sweet  smile,  mirroring  him  where  she  sits  down.  goodness,  what  would  anybody  ever  do  without  you,  dahl  ?  the  words  alone  work  to  brighten  her  smile  that  much  more,  completely  fond  &  suddenly  mesmerized  by  the  compliment,  such  words  rare  for  her  to  hear  from  those  in  her  life.  she's  reminded  of  the  younger  version  of  herself  that  hopelessly  crushed  on  the  english  prince,  her  psyche  often  putting  him  at  the  forefront  of  every  sonnet  she  consumed  back  then.  maybe  it's  why  she  feels  a  flutter  in  her  stomach  now  when  her  eyes  meet  his,  &  can  only  hope  that  her  momentary  bout  of  nostalgia  doesn't  shine  through  too  much.  “  well,  for  starters,  ”  dahlia  begins,  expression  morphing  into  something  completely  serious,  “  probably  somehow  mistake  poison  ivy  for  basil  &  end  up  in  a  porridge  bath.  ”  uses  the  deadpan  joke  to  deflect  from  the  fact  that  credence  has  actually  left  her  a  touch  flustered,  fingertips  drumming  against  the  cards  placed  in  front  of  her.  “  it's...  let  me  think.  blackjack...  ”  card  games  were  always  a  staple  form  of  entertainment,  especially  when  the  weather  wasn't  kind  enough  to  let  playing  outside  be  an  option  —  some  games  were  completely  rule  of  mouth,  some  were  created  right  in  the  moment...  dahlia  was  always  sure  to  memorize  every  single  one.  “  we  total  our  cards,  right  ?  this  is  where  i  best  you.  ”  a  challenge,  gleam  in  her  eye  returning  as  she  leans  in  a  little  closer.  “  how  confident  are  you  feeling  ?  how  lucky  ?  ”

[rcsplendent]

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒  𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄  𝐈𝐍  𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄  at  the  deadpan  tone  with  which  the  joke  is  delivered,  a  quiet  scoff  of  a  laugh  punched  out  of  him. despite  how  others  might  see  her  as  naive  &  unwitting,  he'd  always  known  her  to  have  a  sense  of  humor  —  &  this  moment  is  no  exception.  he's  always  liked  that  about  her;  her  quick  wit  &  sharp  tongue.  it's  made  for  fantastic  banter  over  the  years,  &  if  he's  truly  honest  with  himself,  it's  one  of  the  reasons  he's  found  himself  to  be  especially  fond  of  her.     “  truly  a  thankless  role  you  play.  people  should  be  more  grateful  for  you.  i  know  i  am.  ”     he  grins  playfully,  reaching  a  hand  across  the  small  table  to  give  hers  a  squeeze  where  it  lay  atop  the  deck  of  cards.  his  eyes  turn  down  to  their  hands,  then.  it's. . . nice,  he  thinks,  to  be  so  comfortable.  he's  used  to  flirting  for  a  purpose;  knows  how  to  be  charming  for  the  sake  of  sweetening  a  deal  or  buying  his  way  into  someone's  good  graces.  but  this  is. . . familiar.  it's  aimless,  &  in  that  way,  new  to  credence.  curious  &  exploratory  rather  than  conniving.  he  ponders  the  question,  lips  parting  briefly  as  he  goes  to  speak,  before  they  close  again,  instead  curling  up  into  a  knowing  smile. he  leans  forward,  lifting  his  gaze  to  meet  hers,  flicking  in  a  slow  triangle  from  her  left  eye,  to  her  lips,  to  her  right  eye.    “  quite,  ”    he  murmurs  simply  as  he  slowly  turns  his  hand,  caresses  her  wrist  —  cursory  enough  to  be  passed  off  as  a  fleeting,  unintentional  touch  —  before  taking  the  deck  of  cards,  moving  to  deftly  begin  shuffling  them.     “  i'll  make  a  deal  with  you,  ”    he  begins.    “  &  you're  welcome  to  say  no.  won't  be  offended  in  the  slightest.  ”     he  deals  their  cards,  then  sets  the  rest  of  the  deck  aside.     “  if  you  win,  you  get  one  free  favor  from  me.  as  in,  you  can  tell  me  to  do  whatever  you  want,  &  i'll  do  it.  but  if  you  lose  —  ”  he  folds  his  hands  on  the  table  in  front  of  him,  meeting  her  eyes  once  more.   “  you've  got  to  kiss  me.  ”    he  frames  it  like  it  would  be  a  punishment  to  do  so,  chuckling  playfully.  it's  bold,  but  lighthearted  enough  that,  if  he's  read  the  room  incorrectly,  she  can  easily  laugh  it  off  as  if  he's  joking  —  a  carefully  constructed  air  of  levity,  or  perhaps  ambiguity,  to  avoid  creating  an  uncomfortable  situation.    “  what  d'you  say  to  that?  ”

[gcldforged]

open starter ›› @francehqstarters where: somewhere outside.

        war  had  made  him  vigilant.  his  eyes were closed as he enjoyed the warm weather but the rest of his senses remained alert. his dog also rested at his feet. someone else on guard. another's footsteps approaching was noted, but it was only when he felt their eyes lingering that timur opened his eyes. irritation rose due to being interrupted. could he not have some peace in this damn place?   ❝ her name's bear. ❞   he motioned toward the greater swiss mountain dog. timur would prefer thinking they were looking at the large dog than him, or worse, the scar, though fainter now than it'd once been, next to his left eye.   ❝ she's not as scary as her size suggests. ❞

[rcsplendent]

it's not that romeo doesn't like dogs. he loves them, actually — he had one growing up, a big retriever his father had gifted him for the purpose of a hunting tool, but the dog ended up being so bad at hunting that he ended up as more of a companion to a young romeo. he just wasn't expecting to run into such a BIG dog while out on a walk, & so unexpectedly — he wavers slightly, taking a small step back with a polite smile as he & the canine make eye contact. " hello, bear, " he greets awkwardly, silently hoping he's deemed worthy or safe or whatever the hell won't get him tackled by this beast for approaching her master. " well, she sure is beautiful, " he comments with a reedy laugh, eyes shifting to the man instead of the dog for the first time since he'd happened upon them. " is she ... friendly? or should i ... turn around & go back that way? " he half-turns, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

[bloodycrxwn]

Diana sighed as she finally came up to him, her arms went to wrap around his torso as she hugged him tightly. It felt like a relief, finally being able to hold him in her arms, to touch him and to see with her own eyes, that he was unharmed. "I know, I'm sorry." She said as she pulled away, looking up at him. Diana leaned into his touch, shaking her head slightly. "You don't have to apologize, it wasn't your fault." She paused. "I just felt useless on the outside, not knowing what was happening, if you were alright. It was the worst feeling I ever felt."

[rcsplendent]

yuichi smiles down at her ruefully, letting out a soft sound as he listens. it's a difficult thing for him — empathy. he never learned how to show it, & practicing it with her feels ... strange, considering how easily it seems to come to her. but she's the only person who's ever made him want to. " i was terrified, " he admits after a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he lifts a hand to gently graze against her cheekbone. " not of the situation. i was certain from the moment we were trapped that it would resolve itself. i was just ... " he sighs, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. " i was afraid of what you might've been going through. we didn't know what was going on outside. i ... couldn't help but worry they had gotten to you, too. " he pulls away, then, looking down at her. " but we're safe, yeah? both of us. aren't we lucky? "

[dxncingxnmyown]

The pendulum between peace and resentment swing back-and-forth, as it always has between the good King and his terrible brother. Yet Gabriel finds comfort in it. This evolving chasm between them is part and parcel with becoming a formal De La Rosa once more. His expression of mirth is undeterred, even as Diego threatens to waver. Gabriel knows that the right anecdote would pull him back in, and he's proven right with the merry tale of their younger years. Laughing heartily, his shoulders shake. This, in truth, is not performative. Diego describes better days, when they had more in common than they had apart. "It's not as if he served us anything of renowned! It was table wine. The French only serve that swill to servants - and pirates." And though the De La Rosa's endear themselves to the everyday person, no one can mistake the gold that propped them up into power. Eventually, the French would need to cow tow to the new world order. What is lineage to wealth? Unfortunately, Diego seems more than willing to partake. News of Maria's betrothal earn a look of surprise, that's masked with quick familial endearment. If Diego only knew what Gabriel did of his daughter, then his concern would stretch beyond her Austrian entanglement. "Is that code, brother? Have you already forgotten how us pirates talk?" A coded look upon his face - don't forget from whence you came. "If he's trouble, say the word. I can do what needs to be done." He answers back with a wink, almost in jest... Though they both know the things Gabriel is capable of. "It's only marriage." Gabriel shrugs, mindlessly moving Diego's item on the desk. "What's it signify?"

[rcsplendent]

" having been served wine of poor quality does not mean we are allowed to simply leave without fair payment, " diego notes in only half-hearted irritation, the slight smile still present on his face betraying him. yes — this, oddly enough, is the thing he'd missed about his brother most; their never-ending bickering spells that somehow dissolved into reminiscing about the highs, the peaks. a snort leaves him when gabriel questions the intention behind the news of maria's betrothals — he shoots him a sideways, admonishing glare. " don't get any idiotic ideas, " he warns with a rueful chuckle, shaking his head & willfully choosing to ignore the look gabriel sends his way. a knowing sort of look — a silent reminder of where he'd come from, & the history he can't quite seem to escape. in avoiding his brother's gaze, he looks down at the object he'd picked up off of his desk. a dagger, oddly enough — still sheathed. he sets it down again, eyebrows furrowing, looking mildly uncomfortable with the ironic timing. " he seems fine. courteous enough. maria has yet to complain. it was her idea, actually. " he squints at gabriel's hands as they begin to fuss with the other objects on his desk, reaching over to shoo him off as if he's some kind of crow picking away at a carcass. it's not an unfit analogy, he supposes. " the beginning of a relationship, " he answers simply, turning to lean his hips back against the edge of his desk. " in the most literal sense, but also between our nations. we needed a strong alliance in the west. " he looks down at the carpet below his feet, eyebrows furrowing as a quiet huff of a laugh leaves him. " goodness. i sound like father, don't i? "

[classicaltcles]

" well, we find ourselves evenly matched then, on that field. " eyebrows rose with the words, soft in their delivery, for neither of them had expected to find themselves in positions they now held. " and in any sense, at least you are not alone in feeling that way. i cannot speak for all the newly promoted kingdom placeholder's, but... know this, there is plenty of nerves shared by all. " he spoke discreetly of his own country of interest, now employed to litchenstein, but also... in the regards of loss, in general. with lassie's own father missing, he understood now more than ever just a snippet of othello's pain. and the desire to hide from the subject of it, so he said nothing else on the idea. a laugh followed his blunder, and lassie was struck at how familiar the scene was, despite the years && tragedy between them now. almost like young teens again, poking fun && testing limits between art sessions. " it's a newer hobby. i picked it up at oxford. " a shrug, and lassie busied himself gathering his charcoal stubs, his looseleaf parchment, back into their home satchel. then, eyes darted playfully to othello, and lassie could only hope the shade of pink would not rise yet again to his cheeks. oh, how easily he could change color, it would always be a source of his pain, truly. " now, listen here, i thought i was the model between us? " - referencing to an old session of his father's, using lassie as a model for the portrait lesson. maybe othello wouldn't remember; lassie wouldn't blame him.

[rcsplendent]

othello lets out a warm chuckle at the suggestion that he is not the only new monarch who feels out of place — if it's true, they have an awfully odd way of showing it. otto feels so terribly obvious in every cabinet meeting, glancing from side to side to find out if he should agree or disagree. " oxford? i hadn't known you attended there. a real genius on our hands, hm? " the smile on his face is playful, teasing — not unlike their younger selves, chasing each other through the ambrozy estate with wet paintbrushes & trying their damndest to ruin the other's shirt. a look of joyful realization flashes across otto's face, a laugh escaping him as his mind floods with a memory. " you nearly passed out because you locked your knees, " he says through his laughter, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. he wonders, briefly, if the appearance of his smile — one of his best qualities, if he does say so himself — is tainted by the healing injury to his face; it's only just stopped being painful to emote, & while he's never been insecure about his appearance in the past, he's become familiar with the constant awareness that comes with the dark mark now ruddying his jaw & chin. " i told you so many times you could just sit, but you were determined to stand the whole entire time. " otto shakes his head with a fond grin, leaning forward to land a painless, playful whack to lassie's knee. " would you sit for me again — for a portrait? if i asked you to? "

[classicaltcles]

a pitying look is cast to aleksei, knowing in it's slight eye roll. menace was a nicer word to use for his brother; and lips turned up in a grin, despite himself. " trust me. the more boring i get, the more sasha has to compensate, it seems. look at him now - i swear. cannot let the boy go anywhere without problems. " said more fondly than usual; surely, within a few days time once he was up && walking once more, isaak would be back to bickering and sighing from the migraines. for now, it was easy to think of his younger brother... fondly, with some warmth. once inside isaak's chambers, he stepped in enough to make room, and knelt beside duchess to unfasten the collar && lead kept 'round her neck, rubbing the fur under it and giving her rump a few scratches, before she ran off to make herself comfortable. the duke encouraged aleksei to do the same, and kicked off his shoes with a subtle groan after falling into a chair. " you can, usually. if it is dark enough. " isaak answered, touched and mildly amused to have made such an impact. he'd thought his fascination with the stars would have been regarded as odd, or boring, but it seemed maybe they both suffered from that insecurity. " feel free to pour us some drinks, to your left. " he watched the other, admiring how aleksei looked && moved within his space... and only then, realizing the bit of a mess left over. " i do not usually have... guests. you can forgive it being a bit, well, lived in, i suppose. " a chuckle, because really, isaak did not really give too many fucks how his room would appear, nor how it'd be judged. not with aleksei. the loosened his shirt, undoing the top couple of buttons, unrolling his sleeves, and untucking it from his waistband to try && loose some tension of the day. " bring me something strong, пожалуйста (please). " a moment, a heartbeat passed, and isaak looked at the space left beside his thin frame in the overstuffed chair... " there is room enough for us both, probably, if you would like to.... sit with me. "

[rcsplendent]

at the instruction, aleksei's gaze immediately shifts to the small sideboard housing quite the collection of liquor, & he obediently moves to begin fixing them a pair of drinks, listening all the while. he does his best to hide the way his eyes drift absentmindedly to isaak, watching him in side-profile, before flicking down to focus on the task at hand ( only to drift upward again not even a moment later ). " i like it. it feels ... like a home, " aleksei comments softly, offering a shy smile. he pours himself a modest glass of red wine & nearly spills it, considering he's too busy watching the other man untuck his shirt, mesmerized by the v-shaped sliver of skin that appears as a few buttons come undone. " of course, " he responds, perhaps a bit breathlessly, in their native tongue, as he fixes a glass of a taste of their home — vodka, evidently one that isaak must have brought with him from russia. aleksei hesitates briefly before downing a quick, secretive shot of the same vodka, deciding that perhaps a bit of liquid courage couldn't hurt him — especially once he's invited to ... share isaak's seat. he swallows thickly as he takes his wine glass in one hand & the vodka glass in the other, moving molasses-slow in the space between them, approaching with a mix of both caution & anticipation. he's ... unsure, of what's happening here. but for once, he wants to find out. " i'd like to, " aleksei murmurs, gaze locking with isaak's as he goes to hand the other the vodka glass, folding one of his legs under him as he goes to sit beside him — their legs touching, their bodies ... far too close to be only friendly. he takes a slow sip of his wine, & it leaves his lips stained slightly burgundy as he sets the glass aside, shifting closer in one slow, fluid movement. " isaak... " his name leaves his lips on an exhale, adam's apple bobbing in his throat. liquid courage. he lifts a hand, suppressing the way it trembles as he moves to gently caress isaak's jaw, the pad of his thumb stroking carefully over his dimpled chin. " i ... are you ... are we ... — " he starts & stops, gaze falling from the other man's eyes to his lips.

[effervcscents]

with the glare benny just raised his shoulders in a slight shrug. ❝ what ? am i wrong ? ❞ he grumbled only partially under his breath, as he made his way over to santiago fully. ❝ fine. i'll live, ❞ he answered, very much wanting to push any sort of attention off of himself. he shouldn't have gotten hurt, he considered it a failure, just as he failed to protect others on the search.

[rcsplendent]

santiago sighs, lifting his eyes to meet benny's, an exasperated look on his face. " i am too tired for your ... snark, " he mutters, blinking slowly as his eyes drift to the soldier's arm. wordlessly, he reaches out to gingerly take benny's upper arm into his hand, pulling him slightly closer in order to inspect the sling. " is it broken? " he asks after a moment, expression laced with an undercurrent of worry — he knows better than anyone that freaking out will only make benoît shut down even further.

[dxncingxnmyown]

@rcsplendent | Late Evening, Yuichi and Midori at the Yamoto Apartments

She's never known heartbreak before. A peasant girl without two yens to her name, or a family to call her own. There's been nothing for Midori to lose. Now, however, she has an embarrassment of riches; a crown, a family, a lover. And each one hangs over her head, like a weight she cannot shake. What was better - having it all, or having nothing at all? Her hand tightens along the railing of the balcony, quelling her ache into a stollid look. Fortunately, the rustling behind her is an interruption. Cool eyes glancing over her shoulder, there's a hint of a smile, however odd it was for the pair of them.

"What? No plans to whisk Diana away to some romantic enclave?" Midori snorts, purposefully derisive to distract Yuichi's overbearing eyes. Once upon a time, she loathed his ability to see the sum of her parts. Now, it is intolerable - if only because she cannot hide the sadness in her broken heart. "You need to find a hobby, or a quartet of burly soldiers to train with. It's a summer night - being holed up in the apartment is tragic." Not as tragic as her, mulling about a balcony while Tian Feng was out god knows where fucking god knows who. But Yuichi didn't need to know that.

[rcsplendent]

in all honesty, yuichi had known from a combination of his sister's mood & his interaction with the chinese prince that ... something was off between them. what, exactly, he's not sure — nor does he intend to care. but intentions so rarely align with reality for yuichi these days, & he finds himself leaning his shoulder against the doorway that leads to the balcony, a concerned little furrow to his brow as he waits for his sister to notice him. it doesn't take long, & his head tilts, meeting her smile with a half-amused one of his own.

" plenty. just none i plan to share with you, " he tips his head up at her in a movement that could've been described as playful, if he weren't so stubborn about having any sort of fun. his expression softens a bit at her immediate dismissal of him — & for once, he doesn't bite back or make himself scarce. " i train every day, ane. where do you think i am when i'm not here? " he cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. he waits a beat, before beginning to prod & poke. he's just curious, is all — or that's what he tells himself, at least. " i sparred with your lover boy the other day, actually. " casual as ever. he's sure it's obvious that it's bait. " good fighter, that one. his judo holds could use some work, but a fair fight overall... "

[classicaltcles]

closed for @rcsplendent -> ophelia.

setting -> the road to versailles palace from the villages

though summer brought long days && bright evenings, clouds had come in overhead, casting shadows long before the sky ought, and catching darkness to those who thought they'd have, easily, another hour yet. feet trod home, heavy on the path but his spirits not as low as they'd been of late. things were calming, maybe - they may even stay that way, if tian feng dared to hope, and the dark worried him little as he made way the now-familiar path. pale moonlight glimmered off a coin, then two... three.. in a line, and curious, tian feng picked up his pace, to see where the trail may lead. he need not look far, as he crest the hill, and caught sight of only one other on the path. " excusez-moi, my lady, i think your garments may have a hole. you are dropping your riches for just anyone to find. " and then, after catching up to them, tian feng revealed the gold in his palm, and flashed a smile. " you should be more careful, especially walking this street alone. it is uncommon, but there are occasionally thieves laying in wait along this way. perhaps i could walk with you. "

[rcsplendent]

ophelia had heard of a shop in a nearby village that offered the loveliest of imported persian silks, & with the queen's permission, had gone to purchase a bolt or two. the trip had been delightful, & she carries her bounty with her in a handmade tote. she'd timed it well, or so she thought — she'd intended to make the journey back to versailles during sunset to enjoy golden hour, but a gloom had casted itself through the sky, making everything dark & grey. for that reason, she finds herself a bit on-edge as she walks briskly along the path — so much so that she jumps at the sound of a man's voice, turning to face him with a quiet yelp. however, she quickly dissolves into laughter. " goodness! you startled me, " she beams at him, eyebrows furrowing as her gaze flicks to the gold in his palm. a look of realization washes over her face, & she quickly inspects the bottom of her bag — sure enough, it's torn, & her loose change had indeed been pouring out of it unknowingly. " oh — ! god — how awfully ironic. i'm a seamstress — how embarrassing of me, " she flushes, laughing nervously as she chances a glance at the man's face. he's ——— terribly handsome. devastatingly so. she's not proud to be acting like a schoolgirl about it, but, well. it's been a while, is all. " i — oh, is that true? i've never come this way before... " she looks down the path, fingers resting delicately against her lips, eyebrows furrowing in worry. she looks back at him, cheeks reddening. " would you? that would be so lovely of you. you keep those — " she reaches for his hand unthinkingly, folding his fingers back over the coins in his palm. " — as a thank-you. well — not that i mean to imply you look as if you need it. " she smiles sheepishly, already horribly embarrassed by her own rambling. " you're, um... " she pulls her hand away, realizing belatedly that her hand is still lingering against his, & tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. " you're a prince of china, yes? i — i think i've heard of you. "

[moltengcld-deactivated20240522]

@francehqstarters / defne + open location: the windsor drawing room

she already had the patience of a princess, defne thought with so many wanting to hold her, and coo at her. though with how much of an easy baby edward was it does not surprise defne that her daughter is also an easy baby. though it does test defne each time someone picks her up, she is happy everyone seems to remember to support her neck. she smiles from her spot on the couch. she nods. "yes she was born at around three pm two days ago," defne response. "she's still very new."

[rcsplendent]

credence looks about fifteen years younger than his own age, with how he can barely contain himself from the second he walks into the room. " i KNEW it would be a girl! i knew it! " he whisper-yells, punching the air in a silent expression of his delight ( both at the fact that he has a new niece, but also at the fact that his prediction was correct ). he moves cautiously to stand behind defne, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch to gaze over her shoulder at the baby. " oh my days, would you look at that, " he coos, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand. " goodness. she's so small. wow. wow. you did good, defne. oh! speaking of which — " he turns to her, grinning apologetically. " how are you doing? "

[effervcscents]

amin followed along with laurie's signs, nodding to show that he was listening. but they never got to really add anything back, laurie signing so animatedly and feverishly that they just waited until they were both finally standing still. amin walked over, putting their hands on both of laurie's shoulders and looking down at them. they leaned in to press a kiss to the top of their head, a soft ❝ baby, ❞ slipping from his lips. he pulled one hand away to reply to laurie, the other snaking around their waist. ❝ i am so sorry that happened to you. ❞

[rcsplendent]

laurie's frustrated expression shifts into something sad when amin moves closer to them, tilting their head up instinctively to meet him halfway in the gentle kiss to the top of his head. he frowns, ready to be entirely adamant that he's not that upset about this, but the slight glassiness to his eyes betrays him.  " it just wasn't fair, "  he signs, before leaning heavily into their fiancé's embrace & letting out a quiet, forlorn sound, resting his head underneath amin's chin. he stays there for a moment, reveling in the comfort of simply holding & being held by his other half, before pulling away slightly to sign up at them.  " i haven't been treated like that since i was a child. "  he frowns, shaking his head as he goes to start unfolding the picnic blanket, waving his hand in an attempt to dismiss his own complaining, speaking aloud:  " & now i'm in an awful mood. i'm sorry — i don't want to ruin our picnic... "  

[classicaltcles]

" yes, i did get that opinion myself as well... but i suppose she had heard of the wounded, and wondered how you fared after participating in the search party. " luciana brought her eyes back to his, for she, too, were of the observant breed. from her bed, she'd watched the drama between servants unfold; she could discern her governesses moods by a twitch of their lips or brow. romeo was hard to read... but he did seem, just for a moment, nervous? her teeth sank into her cheek, and the princess felt bad for being nosy, but opened her mouth again anyway. " it's just that- oh, i know every family is different, but even during our worst fights my sisters && i would check on the other... " a shrug, brows knitted. if anything, luci worried for his spirits, how he may feel about a sister who did not check in on him herself, but he seemed... fine, oddly fine, too fine. " she said something about squabbling over desert, but it felt a little farfetched to me. i apologize, romeo, i should not stick my nose where it does not belong... it just- it was all so odd, she seemed surprised about- about something, i guess about you. i told you that you were a hero out there. it certainly seemed like she was... feuding with you. " a pause. she sighed, feeling worse. " sisters are complicated. " came her final statement, delivered gently, with compassion.

[rcsplendent]

romeo's eyebrows draw further in at the prospect of valentina looking for him after he'd returned. in all honesty, he's not entirely sure where he stands with his sister at the moment — not that it's entirely val's fault, considering that he's been avoiding her like the plague ever since he'd revealed his ... past financial missteps to her. his jaw ticks when it tightens in response to luciana's reasoning, & he lets out a slow breath through his nose, realizing that like sand sifting through his fingers, he's losing control of his own narrative. it would be awful of him to blame this all on valentina, & it's not like he even wants to do that. a younger version of himself might have, but now, the guilt would eat away at him far more than it already does — & god knows another ounce of shame would surely break him. " darling, " he says, quietly, absently — nearly before she's finished speaking herself. his eyes slip shut for a moment, before drifting open again, looking off to the side. is really going to do this? he's going to say it, isn't he? " i've ... got to tell you something. it's related to ... my sister's — um. contempt for me at the moment. " he looks over at her, finally, expression pulling into one of worry. it's then that he notices his heart begin to pound in his chest, his hands tingling as the anxiety rising behind his sternum threatens to boil over. he's ... not sure he could bear it, if this changed her opinion of him. but he also can't bear the weight of keeping it from her any longer. " it's got nothing to do with you, or — or us. i just ... it's something i've ... done. something i did, that i have to ... fix. & she's upset with me for it. "