Aiden Wright

Leader of the Capitol Building. rubatosis; the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.

[kendaspntwd]

[andy-clutterbuck]

[rubctosis-blog]

DEFLECTING was an art she’d mastered in her childhood years. slipping away into another territory, another topic, another slice of reality that she could handle. when questioned about her decreasing academic and personal achievements ( like why she’d stopped practicing her maths or strumming on her guitar STRINGS or singing her teddy bears to sleep ) she’d poke her nose in the air and utter words of little to no RELEVANCY to the matter at hand. she’d talk of stars and colors and the time tanner harbour stuck gum in her hair ( she failed to mention she later shoved his face into the playground sand ). she’d tell JOKES and smile that wide smile and in that moment, in that instant, her mother would LAUGH, the school counselor would hide a grin, and olivia knew she was off the hook. thus, the real motives behind her BEHAVIOR were left disclosed. she never spoke of the cut left behind by a father who never quite tried to comprehend her; his blatant favoritism. she never told anyone how her parents’ divorce SHATTERED something in her, like her dismal and incorrect view of a NORMAL family, or how she never stopped searching for that feeling of kin even throughout her adolescence and well into adulthood. or how the summers with her father were seasons that left her VACANT; left her empty handed and absorbing rejection like a sponge. no, olivia DEFLECTED. she filled her backpack with sarcasm and called it a day.

she repeated the same structure over and over and over. told people ENOUGH, gave themsomething to work with but never enough to KNOW. would it have been easier to let someone in? to let them see every bruise on her knees from the times she knelt and PRAYED for some form of balance? perhaps. but inviting someone to see the hurt meant inviting the pain toSPREAD, to fester and scab like an exposed wound after falling off her bicycle. and for some reason allowing SOMEONE to see that, to see the splintered glass within her, was far more frightening than to continue cutting herself against it whenever she ventured into her own mind. at least the ache of cutting glass was one she was familiar with. the rest were questions she’d rather leave unanswered; doors she preferred SHUT. she wasn’t sure when she became such acoward, or if all her rebellion had ONLY been a visage of false bravado. if she’d always just been…scared.

“ is THAT how you see me – as a CHILD? “ she tilted her head, a tinge of curiosity painting her tone along with the subtle scent of CHAGRIN – very childlike indeed. she took note of how he retracted, into himself, a w a y from her. did she SCARE him? did this – did proximity – make him shake and shiver, as it did her? a series of questions flooded her brain; inquiries she would not make unless PUSHED in a sober state. but the dam was broken and certain words she kept under lock and key in any normal circumstance fluttered mindlessly into the air. “ am i making you UNCOMFORTABLE? “ she wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was affirmative; she had a penchant for sticking her foot where it had no business being and this…this was not even BORDERING on trespassing – she’d dived right in, no questions asked. the offering of a glass of whiskey kept her feet planted, and she reached for the beverage far quicker than she should’ve; taking a sip out of NERVES rather than want. she felt rejection, disdain for her person, sinking somewhere in her stomach; a childhood trauma sent afloat and, just like she did before, she took the NEGATIVE and built herself up from shaking anxiety into something harsher, something heartless. olivia took her offered seat and crossed her legs atop the chair. “ yes, well, i AIM to disappoint. i’d say you’re plenty interesting but, you know, “ she shrugged, smug tug of her lips curling them, “ i’d hate to LIE. “ 

Aah, there it was, the stubbornness he somehow forgot was there. “No.” The answer was almost as immediate as the question she posed and he could tell that what he had said annoyed her. Of course he didn’t think Olivia as a CHILD; she was young, sure, but no child. She was grit and soul and WOMAN, there was no doubt, however those words would not be escaping from him. He could feel himself teetering now, on this thin line he never even realized was even fucking there. She dissected his words more than what he was comfortable with and in a way he didn’t think was really possible. It made the words feel weird after leaving his mouth even when he knew that wasn’t what they were intentioned when they left. “I don’t waste my shit -- “ He lifted his glass, feeling that warmth spread over his body at each new sip and it was BLURRING him now, “on children.” 

Was she making him uncomfortable? That caused him to chuckle out loud; of COURSE she did. Everything made him uncomfortable, especially a woman like her who sat in his room all the while dancing around useless topics and quips in order to REALLY find what the hell they were doing right now. What were they doing? Some sort of mating dance to figure out who had the bigger pair of balls? It seemed silly and, yet, both were too prideful to do anything. “I think you ask too many questions.” It was funny for him to say, given he asked too many questions himself. What was she doing here? Why was she doing this? What was her point? 

He could see her stirring and, for what, he wasn't sure. She went from playful to angry or, at least, that's what it seemed. Aiden was no good at this and he wasn’t sure what Olivia was looking for. Surely, Aiden couldn’t give anything comforting to her. When was he ever a comforting presence in this place? “Aim to disappoint? No disappointment here. Just curiosity. But if you’ve come to just enjoy a drink, you can say so. Nobody chooses to leave the group downstairs to come up here. And don’t take that as a self-deprecating thing. It’s just matter-of-fact.”

[rubctosis-blog]

❝ yeah, s—, ❞   he hesitated. it felt wrong to address someone without acknowledging their authority, but aiden didn’t seem like the type to care for formalities. still, instinct went aboveafterthought. ❝  what is it, sir? ❞  

devil’s night wasn’t a night he liked remembering. he tried divorcing emotion from memory, leaving each scene at it’s simplest, rawest, most objective form: there’d been raiders. gunshots. fires. bloodstains smearing up a tally on his kill count. bloodstains smearing his hands. noise and chaos. and he’d turned nineteen. reached the near edge of adolescence to the sound of a city falling into ruin. fitting.

sometimes he succeeded. sometimes the memory would surface without bringing any unpleasant emotion along with it, but the awareness of how disturbing being numb felt wouldUNSETTLE him; feelings were monstrous, but their absence made him feel like a monster.

( and sometimes he failed. sometimes he felt everything all at once. )

and that might have been a month ago. it felt like yesterday. truthfully, every bad memory felt more like yesterday than any yesterday ever could. aiden pat his shoulder and devrim kept both feet on the floor to stifle what would have been an mess of a reaction, holding back every bodily display of agitation, save for a slight twitch of the eye. “yeah,” a trace of anxiety leaked through the crack in his voice. ❝  i’ve got time.  ❞  

It was a hard shell to crack, not that Devrim was a science experiment Aiden was trying to figure out. It was, simply, he wanted to better understand his campmates. Most were easy -- emotions worn on sleeves and expressions easily placeable -- but it wasn’t the case for all. Those like Devrim, Olivia and Becks would always be harder and how much of Aiden did they want in their life? Some of his longest standing camp mates were some of the people Aiden knew LEAST and it wasn’t for a lack of caring about them but that it was simply how much they wanted to give and how much to take.

Aiden wasn’t their DAD or BOSS or MENTOR -- he was simply in a position of a power over young adults. It wasn’t up to him to try and integrate himself into their lives. There were some who made relationships with him -- Luz and Ashley among them -- but unless that was clear that was what they wanted, Aiden kept a distance.

For Devrim, it was specifically hard to figure out. He clearly respected authority and felt tense around Aiden but was it out of respect or fear? Both? --Maybe. He saw the small flicker of something in his stance when he placed a hand on his shoulder but it didn’t last long since Aiden’s hand soon returned to his side, nodding off to a side corridor, away from the Commons area and their meeting place heavy with traffic. “How’s it goin’? I mean around here..I haven’t spoken with you since that night. How are you holdin’ up? We haven’t gotten the chance to talk much recently.”

[heartfulloffandoms-deactivated2]

[rubctosis-blog]

a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, or so the saying went. the extent of truth held within that phrase was UNCLEAR, but if the incitement taking hold of olivia’s bones was far from being aFRAUD. she’d been this loose once, this openly humorous without the ever-present grey cloud hovering atop her head like a monstrous halo. she’d been this NORMAL. just a girl with a chipper mind and hopes and dreams and fun mixed within her being. sugar and spice and everything nice. but her mind had been shifted, flipped upside down, and in the aftermath was replaced by eternal CYNICISM; by a destructive nature that could only sink her deeper into the abyss. now, though? with alcohol’s haze all that seemed to fade into the background. suddenly, she wasn’t a broken woman in a shattered world with no CREDENCE for brighter days. she was just a woman of twenty six who still struggled to comprehend her own mind, her own heart.

the question of WHY she followed him hung in the air; unanswered. perhaps her tongue meant to say ‘ thank you ‘ but lost track along the way. perhaps some decent portion of olivia longed to give the man a farewell she hardly granted anyone. he’d been GOOD, after all, despite the fact that they stepped over each other, that she questioned his authority and met him at every crossroad with a witty remark on her lips, she was GRATEFUL. truly, deeply grateful. for the time and the care and the fact that he put up with her bullshit instead of kicking her out, THROWINGher out, like she’d insisted he do so many times. aiden wright had morals, and conviction, and a kind heart, and an ass she SWORE she had not been admiring for the duration of her stay.

“ only three types of people tell the truth: kids, the drunk and the angry – i’m sure i check out on, like, two and a HALF of those boxes. “ she pushed – of course she did – all be it for the sake of having that smug smile of his spread across his face. so maybe she DID know, in her heart of hearts, what she wanted. felt it bubbling and tickling on every nerve ending that’d lost the constant lock she placed on all of her emotions ( or the one she TRIED to place on all those sentiments – more often than not, she failed ). an accumulation of points gathered in the pit of her stomach; all the DOS and DON’TS and her own unplugged sorrow that failed to put things into true perspective. she’d never be here sober, though the fact that she provoked him each chance she got said otherwise. and not did aiden tiff right back with solid arguments andCONFIDENCE, but also managed to put her in her place and seize the last word on multiple occasions – and didn’t THAT do something to her? and she NOTICED it; how he straightened up at her comment, taken off guard; her own lips spread and revealed pearly, beaming teeth. “ so are you going to offer me a drink or a seat or should i just help myself to anything i’d like? “ she looked around the room pointedly.

Aiden could have a firm hand as a leader, there was no doubt, but it varied in degree and reasoning. He knew the bad seeds from the ones simply struggling and he knew Olivia was no bad seed. She was a good person wrapped in an overwhelming sadness that morphed into anger and defensiveness. In a way, it was a lot like him; a good person, good DAD, who lost everything that ever mattered. He should have been dead, there was no doubt about that, but he lived and he continued. He was not the same man he was nor would he be.. However, the feat he’s made since the beginning is miraculous enough. He feels different now, more accepting of emotions not so easy to swallow, but he’s still not that same husband and dad. He’ll never run around, laughing until his belly hurt or playing games just to entertain his kids. It’s survival now – all grit, weapons and war. It was a different life but it was becoming okay now.

So, when he saw Olivia attempting to be the big bad wolf, all scoffs and eye rolls, maybe he liked to think he knew different. It was why he spent more time on those like Olivia or Devrim, two people he knew was more than meets the eye. People hadn’t given up on Aiden when they had found him almost four years ago, even against his pleading. They dragged him, fed him and forced a gun in his hands when rotters surrounded them. Each day, each conversation brought him more clarity until at least that clarity became enough to keep him alive.

“You’re definitely all three of those boxes.” He smirked, taking another sip before moving the whiskey bottle closer to himself. There was maybe a point to not inviting her in but those points multiplied quite quickly. Part one was for the mere fact that it was INAPPROPRIATE and inviting her in only meant he wanted her to get comfortable ( and maybe, JUST MAYBE, he did..or didn’t ). Point one consisted of the potential of someone walking by and seeing or hearing or thinking or spreading insignificant details about anything Aiden does but now he knows he’s overthinking it. How many people have been in this office by themselves? Many. But this particular encounter felt DIFFERENT and so the wheels were turning in his brain, which didn’t help because alcohol only made that function FOGGY. Part two was for the very, very simple fact that not inviting her in would annoy her and with her craving of the upper hand regarding him, small moments like this was highly entertaining.

He smirked, studying her a moment before reaching behind him on the window sill and retrieving another glass. He poured her a glass, edging it towards her with his knuckles as his head pointed to the seat. “Thought you were a ‘say your peace and leave’ type of person. Alcohol must make me a more interesting guy..”

[lexilhoward]

[rubctosis-blog]

HOLDING HER TONGUE has always been an issue – perhaps one of her greater faults. even as a child, she’d shown rebellion dipped words; a coat of mischief covering each syllable. anyone with common sense would’ve learned the value of CIVILITY after what octavia has endured ( lost siblings and fathers and husbands and children ), but the young laundress lacksJUDGEMENT at times and, when the walls came tumbling down, she failed to find a POINT to being ladylike. what more could the world take from her? an ARM? her head? the pain, although likely excruciating, appears to be child’s play in her eyes. there is no greater pain than sentimental loss and the scars of those never seem to heal. the rest of her body? the physical hurts? those heal rather quickly in comparison.

he’s far taller, far larger and, if he so wish, he could PROBABLY rip her apart. but there is no threat conceived after her quip – only HUMOR. odd, she thinks, aren’t all royals eternally graced with sparring swords up their arse? maybe this monarch’s has slightly loosened up. this jest he builds between them, laced with a fine line of COQUETRY – yes, she notices – helps her idly controlled features relax. contort into the normal set of expressions she destines for all those who wander into her shop. “ perhaps that was your first MISTAKE, your grace, “ ah, the title is forever pronounced with just a dash of DERISION, “ not to fret, however; i’ve been acquainted with plenty of men who wish themselves into something greater than they truly are. “ there it goes; her disobedient tongue does what it wants to, no RESTRAINT shown.

the king EXAMINES her space, and she’s unsure if his face expresses DISDAIN or indifferent: in either case, octavia doesn’t care. what does shake her, strike a nerve and get the heat rising in her cheeks is when he begins to UNDRESS. she is no MAIDEN; she’s perfectly aware of what a man looks like naked, but this is not how she expected the day to play out. a king in her shop. aHALF NAKED king in her shop. her eyes widen a fraction and she’s tempted to look away, as would be required of her. but he’s PLAYING. he’s toying with her and likely wanting to drive her into a corner, assert dominance. NO ONE can subjugate her – she’s been her own since before she could walk and no VAIN monarch would change that. so she meets his gaze, pretends her eyes never rake across the expanse of his exposed chest. octavia holds her hand out, asking for the shirt, as she walks closer. eyes remain pierced on his, and even when there’s little space between them, octavia keeps her gaze trained. “ oh, i can imagine a great deal of things can be done to FIX the problem – i am curious, however: have you brought a spare change with you or will you be parading yourself for all my customers? “

Edgar had never been a violent person, especially not when he was a boy. He was the black sheep for that very reason; his father and brother practically foaming at the mouth at the mere mention of war and battle, while Edgar stayed beside his mother. The constant jabs and teases that fell on him from the other Waldemar men would constantly drone in his ears, even after his brother’s death. He shouldn’t have been KING, that title was so clearly meant to be bestowed upon William, but alas here he was..

Edgar ran the country under a heavy thumb because even if that hadn’t been his method, he knew Calx would have fallen apart. From a tougher than nails ruler to a kind and soft one would have only caused rioting and civil disobedience if they knew they could get away with it. So, instead, Edgar was careful by how forgiving he was and he HOPED that Calx at least knew there was effort on his part, rather than just a taste for blood.

So, in small moments like this, he allowed his kindness be seen. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t always a bit vain..that he was sure would never leave him. She could jest and poke at him if she wanted to and his natural demeanor would be to laugh and find it entertaining, which it WAS. She was so tiny, confronting him with sarcasm like some small, adorable yet threateningly feral animal. He loved a good fight in a woman rather than one who simply goes through the motions of life based on the decisions of her husband. She was already far more interesting than a room full of royals. Even her mention of him wanting to be more than he appears makes him smirk; if it was any other King, she’d surely be killed. “You are truly more than meets the eye, aren’t you?” He gives her a playfully glaring stare, although a chuckle falls quickly after.

More laughter threatens to spill at her adamant gaze, not daring to let her gaze fall to anywhere but his eyes. So, naturally, he can’t help himself, unbuttoning the shirt at her question. He raises a brow, lazily shrugging before slipping the shirt off and extending it out towards her. “Are you saying I am not nearly good-looking enough to show myself like this?”

[fyeahjanethevirgin-deactivated2]

Like I said: politics make strange bedfellows. 

[princessgisla]

[rubctosis-blog]

For all of his brute force and raw, physical power. This king was a sharp man, that much Cassandra knew. She knew she had to tread lightly in his stead. Though her tactics were successful, though she could feel his ego and pride soaring as her small face pressed into the firm wall of his chest, she knew damned well that this was so easily a double edged blade. She’d seen the disconcerting expression that occasionally crossed over his features if she played too much the martyr.. or if she let her guard down and allowed her true nature to show a bit too freely when flirting with him. The hammer of his fist could easily be turned to harm her and her kingdom if she didn’t treat lightly here. Though.. she’d be lying if the thought of meeting him with the full rage he was capable of wouldn’t be an absolute thrill. Just as he couldn’t possibly know the depths of her cunning and malignant capability.. she couldn’t possibly know the depth of his own intelligence. She couldn’t know what laid beneath that stoic, so very strong front.

As it was.. she practically felt the arrogant smirk that pulled at his features. Something that left her own pride soaring in response at getting exactly what she wanted from him. At inciting that innate need to protect and shelter this man so clearly had. She truly did hope she never had to exploit such a thing to his downfall. She did, after all, thoroughly enjoy this man. When he spoke, she could feel it rumbling through his chest. A low growl of comfort as his fingers brushed along the whale-bone corset, and her own form leaned into his touch nearly of it’s own accord. As she pulled back, pale cheeks flushed pink and lashes spiked and dark from un-shed tears, she cast him a sidelong glance. It was rare to see this side of him, particularly considering how.. foreboding his wife always seemed to be. Un-giving and cold, what an absolute waste of such a virile creature as he. Such a true shame he was never born of Littus.

When he spoke, large hand encasing her own slender one, she followed. The tap of her heels echoing in the room as she lowered herself onto the chair. Her fingers remained locked in his, thumb pressing to the delicate spot just at his wrist as her gaze lifted to his own. He towered above her, even more-so as she sat, and she gave a slight nod. “I could certainly use a drink.. What wine is available here in this city..? Certainly it pales in comparison to the usual fineries of Calx..” She was about to speak again before there was a small din just outside of the room, the sharp, rushed voice of the planted courier. Demanding to speak to the Lady Powlette about the safety of her brother.

Edgar had a feeling Cassandra was laying heavy on the emotions and, for what reason, Edgar didn’t really care. If a beautiful woman was pressing against him, whimpering and happy that he was there to comfort her, then who was he to question? There was no immediate danger nor did Edgar have a bad relationship with Queen Sapphira so whether this visit was planned, curated or on accident, who was he to spend his time guessing the reasoning? All he could see in front of him was an emotional woman who had no issues asserting herself in front of him. If she truly WAS afraid, she had an incredibly interesting way of showing it and he’d truthfully LOVE to see her when she was feeling mischievous. Oh, how he’d love to see that.. He stood nearby until her mention of wine and he retrieved the decanter from his nearby shelf, a smirk rising to his lips. “They drink much lighter wine here, unfortunately. In the chill of Calx, we like our wine to complement our heavy dishes. I brought my own wine with me, limited as it is, so you can taste the full richness of what we have up in the mountains.”

Pouring her a cup, in his CHAMBERS ( no less ), was an unusual and scandalous decision on his part. He could only imagine the look on his wife’s face if she learned from his staff that he had not only refused her entry into this room at all but that he allowed another woman, outside of their kingdom, to be allowed in; she’d most likely pass out from anger right there. Truthfully, it made him feel all the more playful as he extended the cup towards her.

However, his flirty behavior ceased momentarily when he heard commotion outside and his men announced themselves. Ushering them in, he watched as the man stepped forward, announcing that her brother was indeed SAFE but had lost or injured a horse and decided to cease his travels until morning. Edgar turned back to her, his view out of sight of the men, and he could feel his gaze fall over her as a sly smirk rise to the corners of his lips. “Thank you gentleman. Lady Powlette is welcomed to stay here for as long as she would like. We have more than enough accommodations.” And on a bow, the men left them alone once again.

“There you have it. Safe and sound, even if he won’t be enjoying this wine alongside us.” He took a sip from his own cup, gaze never leaving hers. “I hope you find more peace in mind.”

[rubctosis-blog]

when the running INFECTED MEN started feasting on the flesh of those who’d yet to contract the illness, it seemed their first targets were all the maids and crones whose occupation had been washing. how else can anyone explain the INFLUX in clients since her arrival to the holy city? octavia is GOOD at her job, but only when and IF the mood is right. one slippery comment, one remark or gaze that doesn’t sit right with the young woman  leads to disastrous results.capricious, most certainly, but a common woman takes her revenge and ire in whatever way she can. octavia happens to have plenty of WRATH in her to cause continuous ‘ accidents ‘.

despite this, the queue for her services is long and tiring. she’s careful to separate all baskets and label them correctly in her mind – ‘ this one i like, this one i don’t, this stain is suspicious ‘ – as she sets them down behind the curtain she calls wall. behind it lies her work area and living space. a reduced site but not one she’ll complain about too much; those of her status can never wish for more, and though she still has plenty of DREAMING left in her, she reserves the magic for less trivial things.

she’s left speaking alone, answering another client’s questions about the temperature of the water used when SILENCE meets her. silence and an empty room. nearly empty, at any rate. her customers gone with the breeze and in their place stands a man – looming andTERRIFYING – with garments that scream riches. if the guards only solidify that status, and only when she sees the insignia on their armor does she truly comprehend just WHO has walked into her humble home. she should be embarrassed, truly – a KING must surely be disgusted by such a quaint place, but she isn’t. IGNOMINY has never been an issue to take her sleep away. the king nods in greeting and she returns it with a faint curtsy; clumsy at best – she lacks practice in this area. “ i mean no offence, your grace, but i’m fairly certain the ARMED flock of birds that follows you is far more frightening. “ oh, he’s terrifying in plentiful amounts, but she’ll save him the pleasure of inflating his ego. octavia eyes him for a moment, head tilting. “ is there a reasonyou’ve scared my customers away? “

Rarely did anyone give rebuttals or quips in return to the him. As the King, most people took his sarcastic jabs and let the air around them swallow them up and remain still. It was often like pulling teeth to get anyone to entertain him these days. Edgar could often be a hard nut to crack, especially with his volatile upbringing. One evening his father could bellow and laugh until tears streamed his cheeks at Edgar’s little jokes and, on other days, Edgar got a mighty blow at the simplest of quips. The up-and-down mood swings of a Waldemar man was gossip that traveled the cities and kingdoms far more than Edgar probably suspected. He, however, wasn’t nearly as bad as his father and brother were and while needing to maintain a level of superiority, he had to admit he liked when someone had the courage to tease back.

Now, his kryptonite happened to be this five-foot something, petite woman with fire behind her eyes that she was still seemingly trying to extinguish in his presence. If he was not the King, would she have held her tongue? “And here I was thinking I was mighty and terrifying all on my own.” He shook his head, a soft clicking of his tongue inside his mouth as he feigned disappointment.

He began walking around her shop, eyeing her detail to the work she had done. Surely, he had come for a reason but now that he was here, flirting with her seemed a much more entertaining venture. Killing two birds with one stone seemed like the perfect option and he began loosening his robes and vests. “You see, we might be forced in this town, m’lady, but I still look to those from Calx to do my clothing and anything else I might need. There is nothing quite like home, is there? There is nobody I can trust more.” He offered her a polite smile and a nod before he revealed his last layer of clothing on his chest; a beautifully white, loose linen shirt. Opening it to reveal just a bit of his chest, he glanced at her as a small, playful smirk rose to his lips. “I had a woman nearby do this shirt and I just don’t feel it..flows or feels quite like how it once had. I am curious to see what you might think can be done with it.”  

[rubctosis-blog]

Cassandra was displeased with being here.. this city with it’s endless grime and filth. She wanted to go home, she wanted to be back in Littus, with the safety and protection of the heavy trees. Without the ugly stench of overpopulation and broken cobblestone. But their home was in perhaps the most danger of being overrun. And she was stuck here. The very least Cassandra could do, was her job. And as she caught sight of the King making his way toward her, she found it incredibly difficult to keep such a frightened demeanor. Edgar was, by far, one of her favorite reasons for each time she visited They certainly didn’t make them like the King of Calx in Littus. He was a massive, strong, powerhouse of a man. Blunt and harsh and ever so forceful. She had little care that he was married, that he wasn’t of her house.. and that much was made clear every time they’d passed. Flashing him playful little looks, her tone soft and velvet and sweet with innuendos. Even now, knee deep in her guise and guile, Cassandra had every intention of taking advantage of the circumstances presented to her. Of the man’s kindness.

As the advisor led her down a hallway that to be honest.. she hadn’t anticipated being invited to, sharp eyes drank in every detail, until the man allowed her into the room. Though his tone and attitude were clearly begrudging.. she didn’t quite care. In fact, she revelled in it, she knew exactly what that meant. That this was perhaps a vulnerability, that his staff didn’t like it, and while she sat there and waited, wondering if the scout with the notice of ‘Arthur’s safe and sound’ had arrived, she drank in the layout. The number of entrances, any structural integrity flaws. Until she heard the creak of the door, and her sharp features shifted once more to wide blue eyes and a fretted knit to her brow.

The moment His Highness entered, the young woman was off of the comfortable seat in a heartbeat. Her delicate form colliding into his larger one, face burrowed in his chest. She trembled, her form much smaller than his own, and after a moment, the red-headed young woman pulled away, seeming for all the world to be embarrassed of her lapse in self control. One hand splayed over his chest as she shook her head, quietly marveling at the way he stood, immobile and invulnerable, as her lashes lowered. “I apologize.. I didn’t mean any impertinence I’m just..” Her gaze lifted once more to his own as teeth sank into her lower lip. “I’m just so glad you’re here” Her voice was soft, a whispered hush. Breathy and feminine and designed to make him feel every bit the savior he was playing. She didn’t know much about him, but she’d seen his wife. She’d seen the interactions, and she’d damn well seen the way he looked at her. His Majesty could certainly use a bit of fun, a bit of stroking of his.. ego. And what was the harm in getting what she wanted and giving him what he needed at the same time?“ After all, the errand boy should be by any moment now and she could stop crying wolf and start playing one.

His wife had never been a warm or affectionate woman, not even when trying to impress Edgar before they married. Truthfully, maybe she knew he needed her just as much as she needed him and, therefore, she felt no pull to try and swoon her soon-to-be-husband.  There had been effort on his part, even as fleeting as it was, but he made an attempt to love the woman he was marrying. However, when she was far more focused on flower arrangements and what possible names they could give their unborn children, Edgar lost all hope in swooning her. This was an ARRANGEMENT, not a true love story and they conducted themselves as such. The only real upside to their marriage was their children; two beautiful young children that held the sort of positive outlook that he once had as a child. It was the only saving grace between them.

So, when a beautiful woman was pressing against his chest, whispering soft whimpers and moans, it was safe to say that his ego swelled to new heights. He wanted to be needed; NEEDED to be needed. If his wife could not give him the attention that he believed he deserved, he’d find it elsewhere.

A smirk only rose at the woman’s hysterics, Edgar feeling his body stand firm to allow herself to press against it. A large and strong man, Edgar was built to protect, to make a person feel safe by just being near him. “My dear, you have nothing to fear. My men will find your brother and all will be well.” His fingers grazed her waist, feeling her tightened corset that held her petite frame. She was all woman; delicate and dainty but, yet, a feral and wild light beneath her gaze was something that always caught him off guard.

“Come, come.” His fingers found hers, pulling her gently into the warmth of the room and towards the chair. “Care for tea? Anything I can do for you to calm your nerves? Even some wine, perhaps?”

[rubctosis-blog]

Edgar finds himself amongst royals and priests and, yet, he’s BORED. He misses the confines of his home in Calx, misses hunting along impossible terrain where the wind whips his face. Rather, now, he finds conversation monotonous and the thought of sharing space with Imber is enough to make him go mad.

Rather, he has his guards escort him out into the town village, watching as gaze follows him closely. He is sure many have heard the rumors of Edgar Waldemar and the harsh, brutal family he came from. Even if Edgar was better than the previous rulers, there was no doubt gossip that propelled his violent family name.

Through the village, he recalled a laundress that, if he remembered correctly, heard was from Calx. Truthfully, Edgar did his best to only go to townspeople that were from Calx for his services. Call him biased but he didn’t trust any other, especially not now.

Nodding his guards to the entrance, he entered the small shop, glancing around to the few others inside. By his stance and remaining guards with him, the few stragglers quickly exited, leaving their things behind. He then nodded the rest of the guards outside, returning his gaze to the shop and, to, who he assumed was the woman from Calx. He smirked softly, bowing his head in a formal greeting. “I suppose I’m too intimidating for your customers to stay.”

@oliviastcford

[ofhcstility]

@rubctosis

Calx. Cassandra’s gaze flickered from the royalty that was designated to the home before her to cast one more backwards glance toward the rather.. bland environment outside. Calx was nothing like the covetous.. covert home of Littus that Cassandra had always known. And it was nothing like where they were now. It was jagged.. bladed rocks and precarious cliffs and winds that screamed in wild abandon. And if Cassandra were being absolutely honest with herself, it was thrilling. Every single time she’d have to go to Calx in the past.. alongside her brother, she’d eagerly peer out the window at such dangerous.. vicious territory. Revelling in the thrill of the open spaces and the sharp rocks that could so easily lead one to fall to their death. So very different from the lush greens, and the covert brand of danger that her own kingdom was so well known for. A terrain she was entirely unprepared for. Nothing to shield herself with, nothing to blend into or hide beneath with her emerald green dress, made from silks and velvets tailored to represent the house of Littus.

But this time everything was different. This time it wasn’t Calx, and she was here for a different reason. Not to simply indulge in the notoriety that came with the Powlette name, as she had every other time. Not to entertain herself with foreign enjoyments as her brother got to play all the interesting games. And that was exactly what she reminded herself of as, once the doors closed and darkness replaced the bright light outside, she turned once more toward the men approaching her.

Her expression had shifted seamlessly, from avid interest to a look of abject disquiet. Delicate features pulled taut and lower lip practically trembling. Slender fingers, gloved so that no one could see the myriad of cuts upon them that came with years of practice and fighting, wrung at her skirt worriedly as she shook her head. “My brother was right behind me!” The young woman insisted, pretty blue eyes welling with tears that never quite fell, making her look ever so vulnerable. “I’d heard of ambushes on the streets here.. but I hadn’t thought..” She cut herself off, looking down again. Her tone frantic, almost. “Nearly an hour ago, there was chaos on the road behind my caravan, and Arthur still hasn’t caught up.. I fear the worst!” It was a lie, one known only to herself and those who needed to know. Even the aids that travelled with her assumed her fear was real. Of course, Arthur was fine and an errand would be sent to tell them all of such.. but only after she’d gotten everyone.. hopefully including his royal highness himself, off of his guard.

[rubctosis-blog]

Calx was by far the most dangerous and bitterly cold kingdom and, so, when brought to Tellus and away from his rough terrain and winds, it was nothing if not a shock for him. He avoided traveling out of Calx, having many others come to him when important matters were to be discussed, and so Edgar struggled with the heat and the smell and overall sunny disposition of Tellus' community. He missed riding and hunting in bitter winds that threatened their footing on the Cliffside. Now, he had succumbed to an old castle that he requested be as high up on their terrain as possible, which still proved rather disappointing.

However, location was not the downside to this relocation, it was sharing a community center with Imber. Edgar had been so against his father and brother -- never wanting to succumb to war unless necessary -- but fifteen years had passed and they were still down each others throats. Now, they were forced to live AMONG one another and, so far, Edgar had the fortune of not yet having run into another that might cause him to lose his temper.

One day at a time, he knew, and he was letting the thought of being forced out of his home be a temporary thing. The less he thought of it long-term, the less angry he became. Instead, today, he would focus on the visit to his somewhat makeshift castle from House Littus, a house he knew was tricky in its own right and, yet, pleasant enough to warrant a welcome to his home when they sent news of their travels to him. It helped even further after the last few visits when Cassandra was in attendance, the woman who’s brother was militant commander under Queen Sapphira. Flirty gazes and quips, there was no doubt that she had Edgar’s attention at every bat of her eyelashes. 

As soon as his men notified him that Cassandra’s brother was meant to arrive and, yet, held up, he sent a search party with a few of his men to look for him. With his wife held up, he had his advisor bring Cassandra to his private drawing room and while it was frowned upon to allow women inside, none questioned Edgar’s demands.

As soon as he entered and his maid had brought them afternoon tea, he bowed his head to her, standing in front of the crackling fire. Even in this new territory and warmer than what he was used to, Edgar demanded a fire be lit any time he was to move to a room. “Ah, welcome Lady Powlette. I’ve heard word of your brother’s travels and have men already retracing your travels in search for him. Please, take rest and we should be hearing from them in no time.” 

[allseriescaps]

[rubctosis-blog]

hell’s event 002 ; “The land of tellus”

Basics: -name: Edgar Waldemar -age: thirty-eight -alliance: calx -job: ruler of calx -fc: clive standen 

biography:

        edgar was never meant to be ruler of calx; it was a possibility, of course, but his older brother was the crowd favorite. It was lucky that he was born first but he also had all the makings of what his father would classify as the perfect ruler of their kingdom -- harsh, cold and aloof when making tough decisions. ‘your heart is not to be listened to in matters of war’, a motto the entire family seemed to grow up hearing. edgar’s father’s father and so on were harsh men and it almost seemed that with each new ruler, calx grew that much harsher.

     for edgar, he didn’t feel the heat and fire in his belly like his brother and father had. instead, he was gifted (or MISFORTUNED with, as his father would believe) his mother’s kindness. A sweet woman forced to marry Edgar’s father to maintain peace between kingdoms, she adored her youngest son’s sweet nature and childlike playfulness.

    however, as he grew older and avoided his father’s teachings of making his brother a next great ruler, his brother’s fire and anger grew to extremes that even their father didn’t know what to do with him. his brother, William, was so overcome with power and hatred that after causing a quarrel for no other reason than pride, he was murdered by a townsperson in defense. even though they all knew it was William's own fault for his death, the townsman was strung up and made to be a spectacle for killing their ‘next, great ruler’. 

     now, it was edgar’s turn and even with William's hatred filled death, his father didn’t get any kinder or softer on edgar. instead, he knew edgar would be a challenge, and grew only more angry while teaching him what it meant to be ruler. as much as edgar fought against him, anger bubbled in his stomach and his mother watched the once sweet boy turn to stone. he was in there somewhere still but he also knew he needed to survive his father and became a shell in order to do it and run the kingdom.

     the kingdom is still a much better place than it would be if William had survived but edgar still struggles, even through the years. having to rush into a marriage before his formal parties, he finds himself in a loveless marriage with a woman far more concerned about hosting the perfect party than bonding with her husband. his cold heart, however, melted when his son and daughter was born. never having the father figure that edgar would have wished for, edgar promised he’d be a better father to his son and daughter and teach them to be ruler in a more conductive way than allowing hate run a kingdom. 

[trianglemix]

“Everything about you is bothering me.”