♚ @saphiraux - Tumblr Blog

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❝They were being too loud.❞

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#princedemande #the struggle to be polite is real

❝Loud is a word for it, certainly. Though their inquiries were of interesting note. Hurt my feelings over your... Amorous intent towards Serenity? Do they think any of us so petty and fragile?❞

❝Brother, who has the misfortune of incurring your wrath this early in the eve? Even Esmeraude does not vex you so much. ❞

#prince-demande #princedemande

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He is familiar with the way Saphir’s exterior softens. To him it is proof of understanding. The younger’s will bent to his as is meant to be. His brow adopts a subtle incline. Eyes narrowed in pursuit of his ambition. A battle won is not a war.

The words are an insult that he would have rebuked in the throne room. Before others his authority cannot be thrown into question. A leader is assertive and without the need to justify his actions. Only here, away from the court and prying eyes, can he be a mentor instead. Dulcet tones as much a guiding hand as the appendage holding to his sibling’s cheek.

❝Do you doubt that I will fulfill all that I have promised? Every day we are closer to our goal. The power of the Dark Crystal is insurmountable, cultivated by our efforts. I ask you to be patient, Saphir.❞

He slid his fingers from jaw to ear. Alabaster digits then began to disappear into dark hair. They tense, partially consumed, in order to bring the tilt of his brother’s head under his control. A forwards lean required to meet the bowing of his own head. His lips making his words with delicate press. Kiss bestowed upon the symbol of their clan.

❝Place your trust in me even if you trust nothing else.❞

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Daring answers lay hot upon his tongue, forked and fueled with a vestige of venom. He daren't speak them, not in this rapturous second that he feels like his brother is back -- to normal, to whatever he was before this churning vile. His brother places so much faith in that which is unstable, unusual, and beyond his control -- Saphir can plainly see that, yet to speak otherwise is to offer up abandonment. Betraying blood is the worst sin he can imagine.

There is no fight at the grip upon his skull, no real resistance even at the peck of lips in chaste form upon the crest of ebony marking laid against his brow. He feels an infant, small and insignificant, and completely helpless to the whims of the older. A swallow catches in his throat, gaze shifting to the ivory buttons inlaid against his brother's jacket with an almost absentminded fascination.

❝You already have my trust... ❞

yet the other's do not; is what he wishes to say, to mewl, and to announce in vigor. Inhale, exhale, curbing his tongue once more, his fingers hitch in the cloth of Demande's shirt cuff, pulling ever so lightly.

❝And I will only be patient because you ask if of me. But will you allow me the small grace of concern for you? ❞

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A regal ivory figure, he stood quiescent while intruder spoke; hearing but not listening in the true meaning of the word. Patient and pale irises awaiting the object of his interest to step into their focus. His head held with comfortable authority, an overseer and a Prince. It wasn’t until Saphir found his place and stopped that Demande let himself be a brother too.

The remainder of the gap was closed by his own volition. Sensible heels clicked against crystal, his pace sanguine. Then upon the verge of proximity he raised his hand to offer his intimacy.

His fingers first brushed dark strands back from pale brow to linger, endearing, upon black moon. They traced forehead, temple and cheek bone. Fingertips light like a feather, almost elusive in their whimsy, perhaps barely felt at all. Their journey coming to an end with the cupping of his brother’s jaw.

❝I have turned time itself on its head for our clan, and for you. Do not look upon me with such hostility.❞

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There is no pull, no push from the proximity closed. This demeanor far changed and far more welcomed within the pounding expanse of his chest. Such a cooing timbre, a silken voice that falls upon his ears in sweeping lore, and he relents the stern expression within moments. Features soften and lips sigh whilst shoulders drop their tension.

Shivers beckon forth from flesh so tenderly caressed; a surprise from earlier and far remembered hostile interaction. He finds himself chasing the wistful brush of knuckles, the heat of a palm, and whatever cloying attention he finds an urge to muster. It's when the touch comes to a halt that his visage rolls receptively into the hand that holds, a lingering murmur of contentment purrs from a hoarse throat.

❝ I merely worry for you. You are, after all, all I have.❞

His answer is a whisper in the bold truth that lies therein. His brother knows this, better than anyone. And it is gentle moments like this that he misses, from their youth, from any extended existences put forth before this ramshackle war beset on all side of their home.

Is he too bold when he brings up his own hand to brush against his brother's? Perhaps. But it shows reception, a passive listening, understanding and want.

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The hour was late when he retired to his room. Without the glow of the projector the palace was thrown into darkness. Nemesis had always smothered them that way. A tyrant unto itself, a planet withered and cold. Its possessive reach no longer able to cloud his eyes. Not now that he had become attune to its true nature.

Someone had recently replaced the incense in his room. The breath of jasmine flowers hung like smoke in the air. Silver tendrils serpentine, coiling high above his head. He passed beneath their graceful shifting to stand at the most central point. His suspicious image reflected in the lucid crystal floors.

❝Saphir?❞

No one else would have dared.

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#princedemande #╳. brother

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To what end did his menial triumphs matter? Never a sparse acknowledgment as care and concern go unnoticed by decaying hands and heckling laughs -- washed ashore from a sea of distraught intentions and he alone became his brother's keeper, for better or worse. But his infuriated attitude had ebbed just like the oceans he wished to see, a solemn tide to note and hardly a crashing wave of irritation to be found. How oppressive the night seemed now.

Familiar shoes clack against the floors of their as he finishes setting up the older's chambers. A note of apology, in a way, from him. For he is too proud, much like his silver haired family, to ever speak such words. Nails clip agaisnt a dresser and he cranes his head back to lay witness to him now stationed at the center of his room. Center of everything. His life. His planet. His own very conflict. How apt that he continues to bare the impression of spotlight even now.

❝Do you think Esmeraude stupid enough to come into your chambers?❞

Timbre resounds at a monotone, unfeeling and uncaring though it's anything but. It's with ease stride that he moves close, plainer into few with visage calm and far more collected than earlier in their evening. There was no sickly hologram flickering in the background of this meeting -- something that certainly helped his resolve.

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In contrast Demande’s unpleasantness is immediately abated. His brother’s submission evoking greedy calm. It spread from the corners of simpering lips. Reached outwards to soothe taught defensive muscles into comfortable arrogance. Bejeweled shoulders then dropped, no longer needing to bristle in authoritative show. All prior tension redirected to his original cause; mind and body turned towards the light.

The image of Sailor Moon he had been watching was effortlessly captivating. Like a moth to the flame, unwitting, he gazed at her glory with intent. Even a still picture such as this one could transfix the Prince for hours unending.

❝I will have everything I want.❞

He spoke with overwhelming calm. Quiet, assured and satisfied. It was impossible to know who they were meant for. Had he, in the heat of his obsession, forgotten his brother was even there? Or were the words no more than spiteful salt being rubbed into open wounds?

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Bitter belligerence circumvents any further attempt at conversation. Beholding nary a nerve so daring as to test the resounding command of a brother lost. Heels click, echoing in the stern silence above and beyond them. It also casts out the timbre of his beloved family... Almost. With a snort, his jaw pops, eyes softening ever so whilst he turns -- retreating from the scene so debauched in it's own madness.

Another time he would have to confront the situation. When silhouettes did not cloud better judgement. Perhaps later, in the quiet vexation of night -- but for the the illumination casted upon a fairer visage brought nothing but a sheen disgust; gurgling in a stomach of wretchedness.

He refuses to watch Demande break his body upon a would-be throne. And all for some gleaming harlot of luna reprieve.

#i'm in the process of asking permissions of the artist herself for the ability to use her images #if you're going to harass me about do so off anon #we can honestly have a civil conversation about how i'm doing this the polite way #and honestly i didn't know she didn't want people to use her stuff until late last night #so when i get a reply from her is the minute i'll take everything down unless i get permissions and then you can shhhhh

prince-demande replied to your post:Is your Saphir in love with Demande? You mentioned in your rules possibly having a taboo relationship

shhh you know you love me bro uwu

g r o s s notreallypleaseloveme

#he just wants his brother to be happy and safe #that's all it really is #and he'll go to any lengths to obtain it #but he is not an extremist #;out #;tbd

Is your Saphir in love with Demande? You mentioned in your rules possibly having a taboo relationship

☽. i’ll keep this brief. — ;

love like in romantic love with him? not so much. i believe that Saphir is in love with the idea of Demande. that does not necessarily mean infatuation or anything of the sort, but it has come to translate as such. he misses the boy, the brother, he grew up with. and he’ll honestly do anything to see that boy once again, the man who could be a king, this prince of his be happy again and not so consumed with ideas of power and pretty little moon girls. Saphir is not also blinded by undying and unquestioning loyalty to his family — certainly he cares deeply for them, but he’s not willing to watch them destroy themselves and go along with it. hence why he puts up such a fight with Demande’s plans and wants.

does this mean he lusts after his brother? also not so much. for him the attachment is very emotional, very deep, and complicated and rarely extends to the physical. it may, but that is not interest at this time — he would rather commit an ultimate sin than watch his brother fawn over something unattainable, yes but that is a resort he doesn’t care entertain for fear of reprisal.

☽. until i acquire proper permissions to use icons and images, i'll be going iconless for the remainder of my stay on this blog. thank you for understanding! xoxo

#i'm not changing my theme that took too much work however i will switch it if the answer comes back no #as per the respect of a fellow artist #;out #;tbd

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He was loathe to repeat himself. Orders were not requests after all. The blood that flowed between them allowed Saphir no right to rebellion. Nonetheless faced with undying interruption Demande let his ire cast a backwards glance. Alabaster features made paler by the lucid screen at his side, shadows faint and flickering over his sharp expression. Dark down turned moon all the more ominous to behold.

❝Enough.❞

Finality resonated in the wake of this demand. That would be the last time he used his words to get his way. Further outbursts would be brought to heel by force.

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What a horrid sight to behold, if only for the ache rousing in his chest at the pallid vision the older cast. Gone, certainly so, had been the brother he remembered from their youth -- not that much had been expected of such a memory since their improperly categorized ordeal. Yet that did nothing to sway the tempered bond he felt towards him. Blood forever the power than bound them to one another and he refuses to relent on such an account.

The muscles of a stern jaw flex and twitch, the sneer previously marring handsome features forgotten at the furious expression. Clamped becomes his mouth, though eyes narrow and a proud chin tilts upward in modest defiance of the creed. He knows his place, roughly and annoying so, yet nary did such a thing mean he had to completely adhere to it.

❝ Fine, as you wish, Brother. ❞

Timbre filled with vile, a churning disgrace that bites in venomous twinge but he cuts it as shoulders relax and boldly he does take a step forward, showing forced placation.

winkchain-archive-blog

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❝ I wish for an audience with your brother on behalf of the queen. That is all I am here for. ❞

#winkchain #firmusrosa #aqxatic #[ obvs before the war ]#[ saphir legit does not appreciate anyone from the white moon ]#[ 'you and your friggin queen ruined my life because my bro won't shut up about her ' ]#[ 'police ur pretty faces asap' ]

❝The Princess of Venus, are you not? I must inform you that you are indeed wasting both of our time. My brother will not entertain such an audience at this time. ❞

Unlike the charm the elder sibling carries, this man of gravel and azure tint does not dare dally in such a behavior. No love lost, for certain, and no love did he care to find. The business had been made clear, on both parts, and he chose to relay such information in a curt timbre. Whether or not she deigned to understand seemed no matter to him longer than her presence.

❝Unless you wish to speak unto me, I suggest you take your leave .❞

#winkchain

winkchain, firmusrosa, aqxatic

❝Your presence is neither required nor welcome here. My brother dose not tolerate unwelcome guests very well. I suggest you leave unless you have other business unknown to me. ❞

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❝Silence.❞

The Prince kept his back turned. A shadowy figure cast by his regal posture. Accentuated by the stark glow of the machine he stood before. Sailor Moon’s image brought to life by the light. Effortlessly transfixing him.

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Vitriolic hymn pours from lips sparsely chapped, teeth sinking into soft flesh at the outburst he holds within the confines of his breast. Better behavior is the stance he'll take, though the clench of a fist is hardly of demur action, and yet groan of irritation ill begotten.

❝Brother, please. ❞

It's a plea to resound, far less aggressive than previous timbre, though just as curt and demanding. Useless, he knows, at this particular junction, but what choice does he have? To what him spiral into his own obsession? Saphir wouldn't allow it.