throat exposed.

[springscngs]

springscngs. a dependent rp blog for nocturniafm. loved by j.

amarei velwyrn . lady of graveholt , 30 . bruna marquezine fc . intro .

cai elarion . lord of moira , 26 . josh heuston fc . intro .

[vainglcriousx]

setting: the marketplace, just beyond elaris keep featuring: evandris elarion & cai elarion @springscngs

While his things had been taken to the chambers within Elaris Keep assigned to Morkhul’s ruling house, Evandris Elarion had not spent much time within the keep. Aside from a few instances where his presence was either required (mostly at the behest of his Lord Father and Lady Mother) or when he tried to secure some solitude (which had been easier within the keep than in the city nearby), the eldest Elarion had been mostly seen in and around the marketplace, ingratiating himself into spaces that felt less proper for one of noble blood such as himself. He always took much pleasure from being with commoners, had believed he had some sort of camaraderie with them. Of course, when you were drunk and singing songs in taverns it was easy to believe you were among friends. It was the freedom at being “normal” or free of the supposed restrictions being part of the upper class entailed which made him flee to such spaces.

He hardly registered that he could never belong to such a world, but that hadn’t really mattered. Lately, the world he did in fact belong to felt impossible to feel safe within. Death followed the velkynar closely, bookending almost every season. The stench of it clung desperately to the nobility. It was less suffocating away from the grand halls and parlor rooms wherein the courtly velkynar presided. And it served as less of a reminder of what was eagerly awaiting them during their time in Heliophra. The question of who would be crowned and occupy the empty throne within his beloved Moira Castle was not awaiting him at the bottom of a pint of ale. That existed elsewhere, in the council infested Elaris Keep but not here, where he roamed a city that was alight with the excitement of having visitors more so than the pending news.

Wandering down laneways which were as packed with goods for sale as they were bodies, Evandris was slow and deliberate in his travel. He took the time to stop at practically every vendor lining the street, taking care to observe each of their wares for a prolonged amount of time, to ask them questions and to hear all about their expertises and histories. He was losing himself in every minuscule detail of every thing he glanced over, but when he looked up and saw a familiar head of curls also wandering through the vendors, all of his attention shifted almost instantly. It was with a nod that he greeted his brother, the moment their eyes had met across the busy street. Embodying the overconfident lord he was, Evandris easily shouldered his way to Cai’s side, shaking his head slowly. “ Don’t tell me you too needed to flee from our parents’ watchful eyes, ” he spoke with the teasing tone that he typically wore around others. As though nothing that had happened, neither now or in the past, was of great consequence to him. As though nothing weighed heavily upon his mind, nor threatened his charming and unbothered existence. “ So what have you found during our time in Heliophra, brother — anything of interest to report? I fear I’ve nearly been hoodwinked into purchasing some dastardly overpriced jewelry myself, and have yet to find good ale. ”

[springscngs]

Truth be told, Cai had found litle solace in the words exchanged with Lady Rhyaenna, nor the press of lips to seal sentiments finally voiced aloud. It was precisely because he loved her, that he would find no comfort in the usual array of distractions until the crownwearer was announced. Elaris Keep was undeniably a marvel, their hosts exemplary, and Heliophra in its balmy glow, was a welcome change from Morkhul, particularly after their period of confinement -- and yet, politics once again overshadowed each and every delight. His nerves had grown more frayed with each gathering, each calamity, every life taken for which justice still sorely lacked. In an attempt to evade it all, he recalled his own recommendations to Lord Cavit, looking to send his brother to collect what lived experiences he had yet to witness. Cai took his own advice, and weaved into the throngs of the city just outside their temporary refuge.

Without particular aim, his attention was arrested by the ebb and flow of the streets, the din of vendors, offering fruit, trinkets, and wares from shores he had yet to visit. He eventually spent coin on a chain, to replace the one Rhyaenna had torn, and let his eyes wander to displays of more precious jewellery. Rings and pendants boasting polished gemstones, lustrous rubies, sapphires that were reminiscent of the deep blues of his home, opals that seemed to shift in colour with each time he blinked. Which one might delight her most?

It was his brother's voice that stirred him from his musing. He turned from the jewels, filing the plan away until later. "I needed to flee from the incessant whispers of whose brow that crown is to be placed upon, at long last." What nonchalance Evandris so effortlessly sported, the strain in Cai's voice thoroughly failed to emulate it. "A great deal, in fact. I have accomplished the impossible and angered our darling sister, by speaking truth rather than embellishing it. I was told we are to cling to the goodness this world has to offer, instead." Cai knew that Aeliana's wrath would fade as quickly as it had arisen, and yet, something about the turn of conversation irked him still. He felt as if House Elarion were drifting apart within itself, not only in differing opinions between a father and his children. But that the siblings had, in the wake of all the evil that had befallen Nocturnia, begun to diverge. Fragment. Perhaps he had mentioned the quarrel now, because he wished to test how Evandris felt. How truthful he would be with him. "Have you seen much goodness, of late?"

[aenaos]

The flowers were as pink as a young maid’s cheeks. A lingering breeze dipped the oleander’s blushing heads, releasing a faint scent which danced frailly in the air. The light notes were only barely discernible, yet beckoned all beholders to draw closer and inhale deeply. A lure, a lover’s knot. Her attention drifted from the bushes to the lone flower in Amarei’s hands, plucked and presented as if she were the benefactress of spring's riches, and then upwards, to her rose petal-mouth. “Nerium oleander,” she finally said, thinking of Cian’s finger outlining a passage, “a lovely and delicate beauty, indeed, but belying its ability to thrive in any soil.” Her gaze rose to the other woman’s eyes. “Even when uprooted.” A small, knowing tilt touched her lips. “Beauty. Danger. Adaptability. A bloom without equal.” She nodded once, but did not take the flower. Instead, she threaded her fingers through her hair and pushed the thick mass of curls over her shoulder, revealing a slender neck and a small white ear. “If it pleases you.”

The confession uttered during those hours she and Beric had spent together before dusk spun through her mind like thread on a spindle. Her eyes rested on her companion, as they were wont to do, the faint stirring in her chest spilling through her veins in a river of warmth, enlivening her expression, brightening her eyes. “To think oneself above love is a fool’s conceit.” Her voice lilted, almost teasing. “Here I stand before you, humbled and disgraced, the talk of half the court.” A breath. “Foolishness does not even begin to describe my folly, however. You must think me a liar, as you know me to be—I will not deny it. Not to you, who pinned the truth as it threatened to pass me by.” So many years of being a half-formed, empty thing, chiseled in a porcelain shell. Now overflowing with feeling, shell turned pitcher, and she too the cup, drunk on the thrill of it. Lenore stepped near enough for the hem of her dress to brush Amarei's, breath weaving into a half-confession. “Is this what it feels like?” she said slowly, each word quiet and steady, like a river flowing over rock, yet slivers of emotions swam beneath like schools of silver fish. “A joy so fierce it nearly splinters the heart? Sometimes, when he looks at me, I feel as if its rhythm may stop."

[springscngs]

That the gesture's subtle message would not be lost on her, was no revelation to Amarei -- a fellow lover of nuance, Lenore most certainly was, after all. The lady Velwyrn had naught to add, so she simply indulged in listening to Lenore's dulcet voice, befitting the oleander's sweetness. Deep-dark lashes fluttered upward from the stem patiently cradled betwixt fingers, and Amarei offered her a sweet, warm smile. More youthful than what courtly polish usually permitted. "It would please me, yes." And so, Amarei swept a strand of silken hair behind Lenore's ear, her fingers light, reverent in their care. The single flower she secured just above her hair, lingering a heartbeat longer, and then she withdrew her hand. "I've always had to look very closely to recognise beauty in mountainous bleakness. But when I am surrounded by blooms…" A pause, and a faint chuckle. "Well, some may consider it ridiculous to find such delight in flowers. If you do, I should like to thank you for indulging me, regardless." She breathed a sigh, soft, unhurried. Her eyes flitted to the pink petals again, painting a beautiful contrast to her dark cascade of hair. "It suits you very well. Do not think it too whimsical a display, if it happens to delight you as well." The world had other ways of hardening them; they could, at the very least, take the liberty of adorning their hair with flowers. Even if they were sure to wilt.

When Lenore echoed their last conversation, Amarei shook her head lightly. "No, not in the slightest." She insisted. "You are neither a liar nor a fool, Lenore. Matters of the heart are complex, precisely because they lay so closely to something so terribly vulnerable. You divulged what you felt you could safely share with me. I would not have asked for more, even if I had harboured suspicions of your tangle to Lord Verathorm." Which she had not, to no astonishment. Lenore had always struck her as cautious with everything she did -- but for all their respective efforts, they were both but women, not instruments. "It must have required a great deal of courage, to make it known publicly." She offered a feeble smile, quickly slipping with the next confession that spilled from the Kaelvorn's lips. Amarei held her gaze, more honestly than she had ever done before. She suspected the same could be said for Lenore. "I do not know what it feels like." A simple, devastating truth. "Not truly. I have never so openly loved another, nor have I been loved with such intensity." An inhale, breathing sweet notes of oleander. "But I will take your word for it."

[decthless-a]

The bracelets on his wishbone wrist clatter faintly in the wind, a soft, metallic sound, like bells chimes, as he flicks his hand through the air dismissively, a swoosh of air chasing the trail of his fingers, as though he could chase away the looming memories that caused such unpleasantness in her heart away with such a simple gesture—as though he could will anything away. Wasn't he such a vain, unforgivable creature? He did hope she liked him and his fickle nature, or that if she did not, he'd stay in her mind all the same. "All the better for me, I suppose," selfishly, he means that—the artful tone of his jest disguising a much more insidious nature underneath; greedy, unkind, eager to thieve away attention even at the cost of suffering. "I get you all to myself to spoil." when he smiles at her, it is like a burst of sunlight upon the cheek, carefree and unguarded, she mischievous nature of him spilling out, the glint in his colorless eyes—winter eyes—framed in the delicate swoop of his lashes. "I shall make sure you are not." he added—if it had been unclear. It was not her misery he wished, just her attention. He was a snake in the garden, but he had no desire nor reason to sink his teeth into her. He was not entirely without his manners, after all.

There is a subtle tilt of his mouth—something guarded as his head tilts, and his eyes fall on her with a languid kind of appreciation. The choice of flower does not surprise him, but her words—subtle and sweet, spoken too confidently to be accidental in its parallel, do. Beautiful enough to be admired, but not so eager as to demand admiration. It intrigues him—was that how she saw herself? Is this her struggle—the desire for her admiration, with all the wilfulness to take it—but with far too much pride to demand it. "One might argue roses are born and bred for admiration, even the subtle ones... a rose that wilts alone, in the shadow, without the warmth of an admiring gaze, is… ah, well—just sad, isn't it? I could hardly think of a fate more cruel," the soft hum of agreement unspools softly on his honeyed tongue. "Red roses catch every wandering eye, don't they? I suppose that is precisely why they bores me me so… the quieter blooms—the ones meant to be cherished only by those patient enough to notice… I find them the loveliest of all." he could not find it in himself to disagree—not even him, needful creature he could be, would allow himself to ask out loud for the things he thought himself entitled to—things he needed. "…fretful?" Is that how he appears? He thinks of the word, and does not find in himself to shiver. "I dislike uncertainty, I'll admit… but the future doesn't belong to me," A reality he had to accept early—perhaps too early. His fingers drift over the petals of the oleander tucked behind his ear, brushing against the poisonous bloom tenderly, as if coaxing it not to kill him."It would have a lot more flowers in it if it did," he smiles absently at the thought, shrugging that small shoulder. "I hope Nocturnia survives—and that whomever endures these elections has the strength and willingness to ensure that it does." he had a feeling Amarei was much of the same—with where she came from, where he could only imagine she wanted to go, there was little alternative but to make hope happen, to not allow it to be snuffed out, even when the weather was unkind.

He watches with a quiet softness to him as the girl mirrors him—her movements effortless, her fingers delicate as they tuck the flower into her hair like an ornament. "I think I've always liked jasmine because it refuses moderation..." he admits, absently reaching for a strand of black from her hair—a hint of earnestness in him as he urges himself to stifle a laugh—to see yourself in a flower, of all things. Delicate, overbearing. Terribly indulgent. "Too sweet. Too heavy. Too much." he sighed, carefully retreating his fingers—much the opposite of her, he imagines—restrained, composed, subtle in all of her machinations, even in her beauty. Isn't it exhausting? His gaze settles on her then, contemplatively. "Perhaps that's why lavender compliments it so well," a faint smile touches the shape of his mouth, inviting subtlety to sit between them. "Something has to make it bearable." he jests, extending a hand, then—an invitation carried as lightly as a breeze. "Let me steal you away, then. You'll indulge me... and I solemnly swear to keep your trouble away."

[springscngs]

"Thank you, Baeksa." Amarei revelled in his attention for another moment, freely extending her own, lavishing it, where it was appreciated. Her eyes settled on his, noting what a stark contrast they painted to her own. Crisp white, entirely unmarred by shadow, devoid of colour -- and yet, they seemed to probe into her own, beckoning her to look more closely. "Your kindness will not go unappreciated." And it would not, for Amarei had never been in the business of fostering animosity, and had every use for nurturing goodwill.

"Is that what you would liken my fate to? A lone rose, doomed to wilt without an admiring gaze?" As delicately as she had woven truth into metaphor before, the blunter her words struck now. A rose's beauty did naught to alleviate the sting of its thorns, after all. "Please, do speak candidly with me. Your honesty will not offend. I know you are a confidant of his, at least where his scientific endeavours are concerned. And I have come to learn that he does not recklessly confide in others regarding his work. So you must hold a fraction of Lord Varyn's trust, at the very least." Curiosity glimmered in her eyes, no tinge of irritation openly belying voice nor countenance. When he spoke of politics, she offered a simple nod of agreement. "That is a prudent thing to hope for." She mused. "I believe all we can do is strive to survive, ourselves -- the future may not belong to us, but I have every intention of claiming a place for myself within it." Those who wished to inspect her more closely, would recognise an unmistakable ruthlessness beneath her composure.

The graze of fingers against her inkspill of hair did not alienate -- Amarei let but a beat pass, her smile fond, as she tilted closer by a fraction. Her voice she lowered by a notch, as if to unveil a secret intended only for Baeka's ears. "Well, perhaps jasmine does not at all wish to be bearable. Perhaps it has every intention of being noticed." Her words were accompanied by a silvery chuckle. "Just as some of us were born and bred to command attention, whilst others must learn to bloom quietly. To delicately weave themselves into the fabric, steadily, until they have become impossible to uproot." Her eyes had narrowed a slight, her words carrying every quality of a deliberate observation, even as her demeanour retained a lightness befitting their surroundings. "Attention can be a fleeting currency." With that, she settled her palm in his. "But indulge you, I shall."

[wcnderingsovls]

"i do not know," rhyaenna confessed as fear crept down her spine, but she remained resolute, her head held high. she would be no sniveling, shivering coward, above all else. "i do not know how i will sway the council's influence, but i will sooner try than let them decide my life for me." his caution was well within reason; it was a double-edged sword she held against her smooth neck. the blood spilled would be solely on her hands. but by the fates, she had never felt more alive than she did now. if she were to fall, it would be with grace.

"do you think i do all this for my mother?" she asked, but her voice held no ire, nor accusation. "i do it for me." the words illuminated her thoughts. "i have been raised to be one thing and one thing only and i do not know who i am outside of that." even with cai, she wondered, if he saw her as she truly was or only what she wished for him to see. "but with enough power -- i can decide what i want to be. i can rise above my station." it was all within reach. all she had to do was grasp it.

she held her breath as he spoke, and her eyes never strayed from his. if he was to unravel, she wanted it to be before her. light eyes darkened at the sight of the great lord elarion confessing his truest feelings. when she had envisioned this in the past, he had been on his knees and in his hand would be clutched his bleeding heart, still beating, pledging his loyalty at her feet. now his hand rested against her chest, and she wanted to say, take it. take what is left of it. pull it out and free me of this impossibility.

how kind would it be to die by the hand of her love?

but she couldn't hear it. she wouldn't. it felt too late -- and yet too soon all at once. "do not say it," rhyaenna whispered as his palm came to rest on her cheek. she turned her head and her lips brushed against his skin as she said, "you do not know what you ask." he wanted her to free him, but it was he who had caged her and would not let her go. if she had become monstrous in her longing, it was because he had shown her how to want. he, who loved her once, and then withheld it from her. now he stood before her, ready to hand over what she deserved, and he wanted to run?

"you do not get to be free of this," she hissed with a surge of anger as she turned to look at him once more. her eyes narrowed, but in them was desperation swimming. drowning. "if i fall, so shall you." it was not a threat. it was a promise. "and if i become crownwearer, there is no place in all of nocturnia you can hide that i will not find you." she would trace the mountains in all of the lands to be at his side now that she knew what she had always known -- he was hers, in body and soul. "you have my heart, qīn’ài de. you hold it in your hands." darling.

one hand came to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him close. she was smaller than him, but height was no matter. they both knew she had the power to get him to his knees in one fell swoop. her other hand rested on his chest, where his heart beat in a quick rhythm against his ribcage. rhyaenna knew all at once that she would choose this all over again, cause all this anguish, if it meant cai stood before her like this. if it meant he would cleave himself open and allow her to live inside him.

"let me have yours."

[springscngs]

"That sounds like a death sentence to me." His words sliced through the evening air cleanly, leaving no margin of misunderstanding, no refuge behind pretence. What Rhyaenna intended to accomplish made his chest tighten in white-hot dread. Cold and unyielding, impossible -- and yet deliberate, calculated, in motion. Cai could not save her, should fate pluck her from the lot of chosen and place her upon a throne that had proven fatal for occupant and aspirator, alike. By the time he had willed himself to speak again, a tremor had settled in his hands, betraying what fear he wished he could contain. He had not half her courage, he thought -- but he had every intention of following her path, if only to be another pair of eyes and ears, another sword, to attempt to shift the odds in her favour just so. To take a blow intended for her, if he must. "I will not feign approval of your ambitions, but I will not try to dissuade you either. If you are elected to be crownwearer… I hope it is everything you want it to be."

First the graze of her lips against his hand, and then came her anger, unbridled and unexpected -- and rather than fuelling her flame, Cai answered in honest exasperation. "I know well what I ask. I ask the same of you as I ask of me. Do you think it pleases me to make my feelings for you known, as I brace myself to sever every last thread that binds us together? Can you not see that I have suffered as much as you have?" He snapped his head, not attempting to twist from her touch, for he was sure she would reach for him once more if he did so much as revert a single step now. "I did not ask to be freed. I have never wanted to hide from you. Not then, and not now. I would not allow you to use me as a stepping stone for your ascent until another, better prospect came along, dangling an inheritance I do not have. All I intended to do was to protect my own heart, before --" A gasp of air, warm, pleading for a sort of release he could not even name, an end to what tugged at him so relentlessly. "Before it was too late."

As he had anticipated, she pulled him closer yet, in a nature so frenzied it had always made him wonder if she would draw him closer still, if it were possible. If she would fashion them into one, if she could. Her words coaxed a sigh from him, coiling his arms about her, allowing her to slot perfectly against his frame. As he pressed a kiss to her forehead, he tasted the salt of a tear that had been shed. Did he truly need to declare he was hers, down to his marrow? His breath was warm and uneven against her hair, and in the tight clasp of his arms, was her answer.

"You belittled me once, for not being enough. You said there was no use for me." She had said it in the library, to wound him when there had been no use in doing as much anymore. He had left her before, because he believed he would never measure to her ambitions. "Am I enough for you, Yue? If I have your heart. If I am not to turn from you, hide from you," he stilled for a heartbeat, and then another. He looked at her, fully, even as fear gripped at him anew. "If you will not grant me my peace or return to me my sanity. Then why must we fall, together? We can we not soar?" A fragmented exhale, the ring in his palm clenched tight enough to leave an indent. "If it is my heart you want... then take it. Let it be enough. I cannot give you an inheritance, I cannot elevate you in your station. But I will never hinder you. I will never chain you to me; I will never ask you to be more or less than everything you already are. Let that be enough." Let me be enough.

[aenaos]

Kaelvorn blood sprang from ancient rock and devouring winter. Death had been her patrimony from the cradle—death and dust, and a girlhood that devoured itself for survival. Not a babe at her mother’s breast, but her father’s legacy. No kindness to shield her, for kindness had never taken root within her, plucked out as easily as girlish whimsy. But in Amarei she saw the glimmer of it. Something softer, that for once, she had no desire to pierce. “I am not… someone who indulges.” The words came out slow and measured. “Nor do I hunger.” The admission seemed to require no further elaboration, and so she cast Amarei a long, inscrutable look instead, her features as silent as snow. “You seem to know much about it.” Then came the touch. Her eyes lowered. Amarei’s fingers were long and elegant. Warm and soft. Warmer still, when Lenore raised her other hand to clasp them, as if nursing a flame between her own. “Courage shared can double itself twofold. I trust ours will.” Her words were low and even, but marked with meaning.

A beat passed, and then Lenore settled back into the sort of serenity that seemed better suited to a vigil than a conversation. “Heart and mind are unruly playmates at the best of times, leaving the spirit caught between.” Her gaze lifted. “You have been at war with yourself, and I am sorry for the pains you suffered because of it.” She did not voice her other thought—that the end of Amarei’s grand attachment had been a necessary, inevitable excision. Her heart would never serve her half so well as her mind did. “But pain is a woman’s inheritance; it slumbers inside our bodies. Seldom does it break us.” For once, she found the smoothness of her voice was woven with a thread of sentiment. “And tempering your expectations does not mean surrender. Your paths might diverge, only to one day meet again.” The betrothal contract had been built on strategy, not affection, but if her ally had possessed the wit to charm his bride better, she needn’t have turned elsewhere for a listening ear. Better it’d be Lenore then, and not another. Their strange little equilibrium would serve her, and thus the realm, better.

With that thought, she inclined her head. “For better or worse, you and I have made our bed together. If you have need of me, I will always come.” Lenore gave the other woman’s hand a last squeeze, then rose. “But for now, I must go. The work never relents, as you well know.” She picked up her fan and gave Amarei one last lingering glance—as if she were still a riddle yet to be deciphered. In many ways, she was, and Lenore found herself relishing the mystery. “Get some rest.”

[springscngs]

----

Quietly, and to no selfish aim, Amarei had taken to revisiting their last conversation in her mind. Of hunger and abstinence, of longing and surrender. Lenore's most recent developments were of a thoroughly curious nature to her. The Kaelvorn had confided what she had seen fit to speak aloud, and it had suggested the end of a romance rather than the marking of an official, soon-to-be-wedded beginning.

Amarei knew little of her intended beyond his aspirations of becoming crownwearer, and that his house shared a contentious history with House Kaelvorn. What had compelled Lenore to cast her lot with Moonlake rather than Yverhald Keep, given such a past, Amarei could only ascribe to the simplest, and most binding feeling of all -- love. And in that, she found a spark of amusement. Not once had Lenore spoken or acted out of turn in her presence. To choose something so unpredictable and fickle, seemed a gamble unbecoming of her. And yet, for all her prudence and perspicacity, she hoped the decision would warm Lenore's heart in a manner little else in life could.

So when their paths reconvened one balmy eve within Elaris Keep's gardens, the scent of oleanders stirring memory of Lord Chae's offering -- she plucked a flower, and twirled it between finger and thumb. "Someone recently likened me to oleander. Beautiful, and deadly. I do so appreciate a thoughtful gesture." Her laughter was brief and sweet, drifting with the evening air. She held the flower out to Lenore and lifted her gaze to the glaciers of her eyes, the dark contrast of her hair. "Would you be opposed to wearing it behind your ear?" She did not move without permission. "You will be a lovely bride. You may yet take to wearing flowers in your hair, it strikes me as rather Morkhulian."

Something darker flickered in her gaze then, but it was not disapproval. Not with how little choice she herself had been afforded in life. "Even if I suspect you have offended House Verathorm even more gravely than your late cousin." A faint exhale; an almost-laugh, if the other wished to interpret it so. "Are you happy, Lenore?"

[prophcsy]

At first nuray said nothing, her gaze remained on amarei as the other woman spoke of ruin, lineage, and the fragility of relevance with the sort of composure that suggested these were not abstract philosophies to her but deeply familiar truths. around them the courtyard moved in practiced rhythm of an army, servants guiding yet another arrival toward the keep as though the fate of nocturnia was not quietly being debated between pleasantries and wine. “no,” she said at last, voice calm and thoughtful, “there is no certainty,” the admission came without resistance, “not in crowns, not in houses, and certainly not in legacy.” the corner of her mouth curved faintly, “history has never been particularly sentimental.” something sharper settled behind her eyes, genuine consideration, nuray did not rush to answer. instead her gaze drifted briefly toward the courtyard before returning to amarei once more. “yes,” she said finally, “i think there is merit in trying.” a small pause followed. “but i think people often misunderstand what writing one’s own story truly means,” her head tilted slightly, “most imagine authorship as control,” a faint breath escaped her, almost amused. “as though careful enough choices can guarantee a desired ending, when in reality the only authorship is how you handle what is thrown on your path.”

her expression softened then, though only slightly, “i don’t believe that.” the words landed with quiet certainty, “i think the best any of us can do is influence the telling while accepting that others will always add their own ink to the page.” a breeze stirred through the courtyard, lifting loose strands of dark hair near her temple. “the past cannot be rewritten, as you said. nor can the future be fully claimed,” her gaze held amarei’s steadily now, “but the present,” she pondered as a beat passed, “the present is where power actually lives.” for the first time, a touch more sincerity showed in her expression, not warmth exactly, but recognition. “so yes, lady velwyrn, i see merit in attempting to write your story,” the faintest trace of amusement returned, “i simply think wisdom lies in knowing when you are writing it,” her eyes sharpened ever so slightly, “and when the story has begun writing you.”

[springscngs]

"Then we are agreed on the fragility of control, my lady." Amarei wore a serene smile, the sort that knew to invite neither distance nor suggest overt familiarity, lest casual observers feel beckoned by their conversation. The truths exchanged were gilded, honeyed, for they wore their polished veneers with a grace that did not seem so different in either woman, never mind their gulf in station. Lady Velwyrn had learned that whilst rank was usually hereditary, silken comportment was a cultivated skill. Practised and honed until it might so-nearly pass for nature, in Amarei's case. "Let us hope that the world is agreed that we are not to be judged by the ruin or glory we inherit, but by what we make of our lot."

If it were not open to such self-advancement, Amarei's fate might already have been sealed. Yet here she stood, poised, composed, quietly hungry -- wearing ambition as if it were a wound that would never quite close. A wound that bled and stained, beneath silk and courtesy alike. "At least, that is my sincerest hope."

Her gaze flitted to the dark wisps of hair that framed the other's face, tracing it from root to end, for she had always possessed an eye for the quietly beautiful. A gentle exhale, and a slight inclination of her head, acknowledging the wisdom offered. The present is where power actually lives. And hence she had set foot on Heliophran soil, and wandered the halls of luminous Elaris Keep, with every intention of leaving a favourable impression. "Thank you for your hospitality, and for your insights. I do hope all who have travelled to your beautiful home will know to repay the kindness with which we have been received."

[mothercains]

BRUNA MARQUEZINE via instagram

[talesinrequiem]

no matter how raw the thought of his twin left him, he always came to a moment where the sadness ended and it was replaced by rage. it did not allude him that choosing a dagdelen for the chance of being a crown wearer had been an interesting choice. especially of the older ones that had been living longer. had been in charge of nithiri keep longer. been the ones to say no for the last twenty years anytime the council came knocking on their door for the secrets they kept to themselves.

the woods spoke and were covered with eyes, keeping all those they did not wish to come to their doors far from it.

“you still have them,” cavit began lowly, forcing away the rage that he held in his soul. hoping to blink it from sight in his eyes. “do not make the mistake of keeping your care for them to yourself. house fukuyama will visit us all in the end.” another simple truth. at this point, he didn’t believe anyone would get to hold on to immortality in the end. one day, they would all be gone. it had already left his house completely.

sighing lightly, almost in a huff, he shook his shoulders to try and pull himself out of the melancholic reverie. “despite of all this, melancholy, i do have my younger brother still. i am not alone in this world yet.” it was truth. another reason he needed to be careful. the lone person he needed to protect other than himself.

“with that i will do my best not to drag you into my sadness nor my suspicion to the things that have been occurring as of late,” a slight smile curved cavit’s lips, small and true. “as such, i have not had the chance to visit heliophra before, have you? i am looking for recommendations of life experiences to force my little brother to live… if you are so inclined…”

[springscngs]

"Very true, my lord. I do not take their affections for granted, but I can always strive to be a better brother yet. More attentive." Cai had offered a slow, contemplative nod at the other's cautionary tale. Ever-fleetingly, his mind did wonder if he would ever arrive at a point where he would no longer have things to share, trivial as they may be, with his siblings -- if one ever could wake up, and not wish to tell them of some passing thought, some absurd dream, an amusing snippet of a conversation had with another. Comments scarcely worth mentioning, but when a sibling's voice had given way to silence, everything suddenly seemed worth saying.

He snapped out of the thought's grasp as quickly as it had caught hold of him. "Your suspicion?" Cai tilted his head upward, to hold the other lord's gaze. "You had only spoken of your grief, Lord Cavit. Understandably so." He remarked calmly, politely, for he would not press for misgivings that were not freely offered. "But if you would have my ear, I would not be opposed to learning of your misgivings. Better to let minds convene, than to allow suspicion to fester unattended."

He mirrored Cavit's smile. Faint, courteous, and yet unforced. Cai may rule no keep nor covet the throne, but he had been reared for court, all the same. "Neither have I. But I believe the markets surrounding Elaris Keep are of interest, if one wishes to step outside guarded walls for a spot of light-hearted entertainment. Merchants and their wares, musicians, taverns brimful of storytellers -- some compelling, some abysmal." A soft laugh. "Perhaps even fortune-tellers. You might find some merit in one, yourself." His eyes glimmered innocuously at the jest. "Or the simplest form of indulgence found at the bottom of a tankard. Plenty of options to teach your brother to live. And more importantly, to live well."

[aenaos]

“The details would bore you,” Lenore assured, each word polished and pronounced carefully, as if they were silver she was reluctant to part with. She knew very well that theirs was a bond treading unsteady, ever-shifting waters. If she moved erroneously, she might slip downstream. If, however, she did not move at all, she might still sink, and their carefully built rapport would dissolve as if it had never occurred. Or, a small voice whispered, she had merely grown accustomed to bartering herself, piece by piece, sliced thin and presented until the woman ceased to exist. So then, truth—or as close as she could manage—carefully plated. "It was a lapse in lust. Afterwards, I had to... temper expectations, and in doing so managed only to kindle a desire for more." The words should not have cost her more than the span of a breath, and yet... something inside her tightened. Still, her mouth tilted, brief and delicate. “Sadly, I am not in the habit of encouraging hopeless endeavors."

As she spoke, her fingers continued to wander idly across the sheets, and for the first time, she vaguely detected the same sweet scent that often trailed the other woman’s steps. Too close, too real, as was this conversation. The next revelations gave her further pause. She had seen Amarei Velwyrn pleasant, diplomatic, frustrated—but never with her courtesies unwound to reveal the soul beneath. “And yet… your heart anchored you to them, even as you knew one day they would pull away from you.” Her earlier words came to mind about hopeless endeavors, and for a moment she felt ill at ease, a sentiment she easily buried beneath her silkclad demeanor, but no less present for it. “I see.” Her eyes shifted to meet Amarei’s. “But you wanted to be chosen.” It was not a question. “You still do,” Lenore added after a beat, not bothering to blunt her observation.

She allowed the other woman her silence, knowing she, too, did not move without careful contemplation. Lenore took up her fan once more and cooled herself with languid patience until she spoke again. “You might consider that, too, the lesson. You learned it did not break you, that your resolve did not abandon you.” A thought she did not voice flickered across her expression for half a heart-beat. “Survival is never meaningless, Amarei. Each new morrow that comes is another opportunity to learn. To find purpose. Perseverance comes first. Everything else after.”

[springscngs]

"I very much doubt I could grow bored of listening to you." Her voice had taken on the mantle of something softer, kinder. Not a ploy of sweet-dripping poison to lure, but something within her she had long learned to cloak, because kindness needed protecting from careless hands. Amarei simply listened, then, for Lenore would unspool her story as she saw fit, unwind it to a length Amarei imagined would neither leave her wholly disappointed, nor satisfy her entirely. "A lapse in lust occurs when lust is misplaced. Is your lover bound to another? If they are not... Well, I doubt indulging in lust was your shortfall." A pause, but she ensured it was not long enough to grow fraught. Amarei would not press further, so she donned a faint smile, and settled upright against her cushions. "Desire is easily stirred, and it can be exhilarating. But that is not what most of us are hungry for." She reached for Lenore's hand -- slowly, deliberately, to ensure the gesture would be delivered as such. A tender squeeze, and a fondness that kindled at the corners of her eyes. "I will pluck courage, on your behalf."

For a while, Amarei amused herself by watching the idle paths Lenore's fingers traced across sheets. It served no purpose other than indulging in a diversion, letting her mind linger on the inconsequential. She was well-honed in paying mind to the spaces within conversations, but rarely did she find comfort in them. Rarely did she choose to simply be, rather than observe, dissect, catalogue. "Both my heart and mind knew the end was inescapable. But one is more willing to be reasoned with than the other." The words came simply, ornamentation would not have suited them. "Don't we all want to be chosen?" Was it not a distinctly human desire? And perhaps, that is where the fracture ran. Amarei's betrothal was by design, not by affection. For all her efforts, Varyn had not truly chosen her. And she had not truly chosen him. Perhaps that was why she could not reach him. "I suppose I have to learn to temper my own expectations."

Perseverance comes first. Amarei drew a breath, allowing the words to root themselves in her chest. So that what had begun to feel unmoored, gathered itself into something she could hold unflinchingly. "Thank you, Lenore."

[moonvcils]

he smiled and nodded, humming softly before agreeing. "very much welcomed," the time spent in drakathar not only allowed them to grow closer as friends, but lovers. there was a trust brewing between them that varyn had not allowed to happen with anyone else, and while that thought was terrifying, he knew if anyone deserved it, it was the woman he was to marry. and as every day passed, he recounted just how well matched he felt they were. how one day, he may not second guess any sort of interaction or statement. how a deep understanding could settle over them. and how interesting it was to realize he may want that.

as she spoke of her views and her skepticism regarding most, he simply listened. realistically, it would be best for him to assume everyone he spoke with had intentions and motives different to what they verbalized. but perhaps it is the mere desire to be friends with vaelor that has him less skeptical and more trusting then he should be. "i do understand that. i have learned much from you and this is another instance. i need to remember that no matter how much i'd like for vaelor's words to hold nothing but the truth, that does not mean they do."

he wanted to argue that they could decide. that she had made him believe there was a way to control, convince, manipulate - whatever was necessary, really - those around them into seeing the outcome they desired. but her tone had taken on something that felt distant and then she was releasing from his hold. the man's brows furrowed in confusion as she spoke of retiring. memories of their time in vallarion flashed through his head, of her seeking silence and solitude when she was upset or angry, and he knew he had done something to push her away. he did not want to argue or demand she stay, fearful of driving the wedge even further between them. amarei had not been openly angry or combative with him in over a month, and he did not want to end up there. so he tried to tell himself she was being honest and truthful, and that perhaps she had grown tired from their journey in and needed to retire early. even so, he could not help but ask, "are you certain? i can call for something to eat..."

[springscngs]

"I do not fault you for wanting to believe them to be true." The words were spoken with a softness Varyn had not oft been privy to. When she had wished to sway him, bend him to her vision, she had employed a sweetness that did not easily betray itself as false, but never revealed where Amarei's sincerity began -- and where strategy ended. In this particular instance, however, she did not aim to speak elegantly in pursuit of advantage. She had stripped herself of performance and tactical ornamentation -- her understanding stemming from an impulse she and Varyn shared. She, too, wished things were different, that the world was a kinder, just place. Amarei believed that it was not naive to dislike cynicism -- it was only naive to deny its necessity. Foolish, even. "I wish it were easier, too. Navigating this world. I wish we had been dealt easier hands." She stilled for a moment, finding some relief in the stretch of quiet, the sweet-soothing scent of the bath water, how it had, indeed, eased some of her travel ailments. When she glanced at Varyn again, a steady determination had settled in her gaze. As if the moment of tender honesty had already folded back into strategy. "But wishing does not change what we were given."

His display of confusion was noted, and if there was a twinge of remorse, it remained unsaid. By the time he had spoken again, the sentiment had already receded into something intangible. Perhaps, if he had spoken of want -- she dipped her head, and lifted her hands to the rim of the tub. "The warm water must have lulled me into lethargy. I will join you for breakfast come morning." With that, she rose, water slipping from her skin in rivulets as she made quick work of draping herself in a towel.

[wcnderingsovls]

at any other time, aeliana would have huffed in indignation and dismissed the topic altogether, for she loathed when cai regarded her in this manner -- like a child and not the grown man sitting before her. however, she was not to be deterred by her brother's unwillingness to speak freely. she knew cai well and knew when he was trying to merely appease her by offering her little to nothing, so she would leave him to his own devices. this would be no such time. at the mention of crownwearer, she quickly went over every candidate and their respective hollows to determine who from vallarion could be the one to cause her brother to be so guarded and pensive.

once a name came to mind, her eyes searched her brother's in question. his unflinching gaze served as the only confirmation she needed. "oh, brother," she murmured under her breath. she leaned back into her seat and tried to gather her words, each seeming to fall short. "and so, i imagine since your business with her is... unfinished, that you were unaware she intended to enter her name in the running?" aeliana inferred. she shook her head as she said, "it is a shock, i'm sure, but if she won, what would be the worst to happen? she would work alongside our father and live in our home. you would get to see her every day."

she tried to illuminate the positives in his situation, for which there could be many. then, aeliana thought to quietly add, "unless it is a matter in which you do not wish to see her." cai and evandris were known to have their clandestine trysts she liked to pretend she knew nothing about, so it would not have surprised her if rhyaenna was among one of her younger brother's. "then that... well, that could be a bit more complicated."

[springscngs]

Oh, brother. So understanding had dawned, and whilst Cai felt the irritating desire to ask just how his sister had arrived at that conclusion so swiftly, he decided to forgo questioning her intuition. "I was unaware, but I wouldn't have stood a chance at discouraging her, had she told me of her plans in Vallarion." He exhaled through his nose, slow, reluctant. He had given her a morsel of information, the gritty details would indeed need to be drawn from him with painstaking patience. "Rhyaenna is… unpredictable. And dogged in what she pursues. She frustrates and fascinates me in equal measure." He ran a weary hand over his face, well aware of how impossible he sounded. Cai had begun to reach for his lemonade, just as Aeliana presented him with an argument that caused him to withdraw his hand -- and curl it into a fist, for it had struck a nerve he would not quieten any longer. "Are you wilfully blind to this madness? Do you not recall what became of the chosen, the night they were all paraded around Moira?" A harsher tone than he usually -- nay, than he had ever -- adopted around his siblings. "They were slaughtered. We may bear no responsibility for their murder, but they died in our halls. We can never wash our hands of their blood. I would sooner part from her and see her to safety far from that wretched throne than rejoice in what fragile pleasure I might draw from her winning."

Cai sank back into his seat, having lost interest in his drink -- his gaze somewhere between forlorn resignation, and something heavier still. "I wish to see her." He looked at Aeliana, not hiding what ache tugged at him. "But her safety is more important than my desires."

[moonvcils]

she let her mouth fall open in offense at his words, although a laugh soon followed in a way that showed she felt no true disrespect. she had learned of cai's playful and teasing nature early on, and had come to grow fond of it. it reminded her to allow herself to be playful sometimes. allowed the serious nature she often carried to be washed away for a moment. "forgive me, the local wildlife was not at the top of my research list. i was too busy looking over maps of heliophra and familiarizing myself with local politics." there was truth to that, but she had also come ill prepared. spending much of her time in vallarion with her family and settling her emotions after another frightening event.

at the compliment regarding her hair, the woman found herself blushing a breaking eye contact for a moment. "thank you," she breathed, softly laughing as she remembered the conversations that surrounded the updo. "my maid said it would help cool me, and also mentioned something about elongating my neck," what a strange comment, she had though, given her neck would not change depending on how she wore her hair.

she looked him over then, realizing his attire and windswept hair caused him to look every bit like the debonair hero you would read about in stories. "heliophra agrees with you as well. i am sure many have remarked on how beautiful your eyes are, but against the brightness of the moon and the shade of your tunic, they are... mesmerizing." she allowed herself to hold eye contact for a moment longer then she normally would, before the warmth of her cheeks and chest had her turning her attention to her hands, grasping amongst her pockets for a fan.

the cool air provided was enough to allow her to sigh in relief, as well as turn her attention back to the topic of conversation. "i am certain she will remember you. i do not think many come to her to speak of their opinions of me. good or bad. and if they have, she has never brought them up in conversation with me in the past." in fact, she had considered is strange that he was a topic of conversation while in vallarion. "i would not be surprised if she were to follow your lead and find your parents to speak of how impressed she was of your own character." she had intended for it to be a playful joke, but as each word left her lips, seren knew it would not surprise her if elowen tenelith did actually seek out lord and lady elarion to praise their son. she leaned in, conspiratorially, "i will do my best to intercept her. if you find the idea embarrassing."

[springscngs]

"You are forgiven." A huff of laughter, chiming in with her own. "Familiarising yourself with the local politics." He nodded at her words, slow and contemplative, his gaze flitting up curiously. "Anything or anyone I should be wary of? With so much change to occur soon… it would be useful to know where I had better tread carefully." Cai offered a bemused smile, for he knew well that everywhere had become a political minefield, and caution ought to be applied at all times. Still, he hoped she would share her thoughts, for he would be sure to consider any misgivings Seren chose to share.

"It does highlight your neck. And your features." His eyes drifted from her hair to the flush of her cheeks, a sight he indulged in for a heartbeat too long before he let emeralds drift to their surroundings. "I think sometimes, we can be guilty of hiding behind our hair, our preferred attire, certain colours. Certain habits we do not stray from because they bring comfort -- but comfort isn't usually where confidence is found." Only when she seemed to have fixed her attentions on him rather comfortably did Cai turn to her once more -- and the compliment uttered surprised him. Such frankness, coming from someone he had deemed reserved, was a curious discovery. "Thank you, Seren." Cai dipped his head, his smile softening -- trading some of its habitual whimsy for warmth. "Many have. Not all of them have done so as sincerely. Fewer still hold enough of my regard that their words truly reached me." He noted the swift transition from locking eyes to fanning herself, and this time, he chose to suppress a snicker.

"Selfishly, I would not mind her leaving her impressions of me with my father. I could never be too sure what he made of how I spend my time. I wonder…" A halted breath, exhaled with unease after a moment's hesitation. "Well, none of his children are wed. None of them have applied for crownwearer. I wonder if he finds disappointment in our aspirations -- or in our lack thereof." Her offer to intercept lifted a half-hearted smile to his lips. Surely their parents were entirely too adept at their schemes to be thwarted by their children. "I try to comport myself as becomingly as I can in public, as I was taught to do. I have always hoped it would spark at least a sliver of pride in him -- that I aim to carry the name he has given me well. That I wish to do it justice." His shoulders tensed into a shrug. "There is no need to stop your mother. Having earned her favour may do me some good."

[fassylovergallery]

[decthless-a]

The fortunate ones, she says—and he couldn't help but wonder for how long. Could their fortune last forever? He didn't think so—the storm was brewing, darkening in the horizon. "For now, anyway..." the young Lord hums, contemplating the brightness of the night sky—how the moon spilled from the clouds and draped down the silhouette of her hair, making he look like a black witch moth. The perfume of the oleanders was sweet as it perpemated the air, a single, lonely flower left behind which he twirls between his fingers then carefully arranges behind the delicate arch of his ear. She would look lovely in an ivory crown, he thinks briefly, contemplating the idea for no longer than a moment. Death was a faithful companion, what was there to do for someone such as him but to relish in every breath he had to spare?

A soft flutter of lashes guides his gaze back to her—docile, everywhere that mattered. "...truly?" the dulcet notes of his voice carry over, cornflower eyes widening unwittingly as the young Lord presses a knuckle to his lip, stifling a chuckle. "All that muscle and he can't venture into the fields to pick you some flowers? Ah... he truly is helpless," Baeksa sighs, a loud languid sigh to make his disappointment known. "To leave such a lovely girl without flowers must surely a marital crime..." his head tilts slowly, cheek bending towards the bump of his shoulder as his delicate lashes fell sluggishly low. "Tell me, then, which ones do you find loveliest of all? Hydrangeas? Lillies? Or... perhaps it is red roses you enjoy the most..." he rolls the possibilities around in his tongue—seemingly amused, and sways to the balls of his heels—this small, playful thing inviting intimacy between them as though they had been longtime friends. "I shall bring more to you when I next come visit, your ladyship. They say where flowers bloom, so does hope... I think we could all use a bit more of that, these days." The sentiment is sweet, as is the melody of his tongue—as he watches her, dark hair and sweet smiles, all the conviction of her and determination of a girl who surely had to learn how to yield her charm as a weapon, he finds common understanding and, a silent satisfaction in his choice of flowers for the day.

"Yes..." he smiles absently, voice airy, cloudy soft as it drifts. "One single leaf contains enough toxin to kill an adult man.. but if you're careful—they're as harmless as any other flower. And so lovely, aren't they?" Baeksa extends his hands towards the light breeze as though he could feel the dust motes and pollen drifting through the air, air flowing through the gaps of his ever reaching fingers, clinging to particles of life with such tender appreciation.

"Jasmine," he tells her, "That's my favorite... some people find the scent nauseating, but I can't get enough of it." He's always had a sweet tooth, after all—all that is ripe and sweet, he ought to put it between his teeth; he had done so with enough flore to be considered a wild thing, he's certain. Chewed on thorns just to make himself bleed. Wasn't there something sweet about pain, too? "We should pick some together, sometime... assuming you're not too busy, of course."

[springscngs]

Baeksa's surprise drew her attention, and she settled on his features in one deliberate swoop. As he tempered his amusement for her sake, Amarei did not take offence. What hurt tightened in her chest, was not for the other to bear. "In truth, I do not believe it has crossed his mind." His dulcet cadence easily mirrored, too perfect, almost. If he proved to be perceptive enough, Amarei did wonder if he could look through her act -- of how her habitual, poised calm had suddenly begun to require more effort. Practised, fluid grace, that had begun to slip into rigidity. "If one needs to ask, the gesture has already lost most of its appeal." The feeblest hint of a smile, carrying no mirth. "A marital crime." She echoed, a flutter of eyelashes, then a soft snap of breath. "Perhaps pre-marital crimes are not meant to be judged quite so harshly." Her gaze flitted to her oleanders, and her smile reappeared, not so swift to waver this time. "And I am not without flowers, now."

She pondered his question for a moment. Accustomed to Drakathar's bleakness, she found it difficult to settle on only one flower she considered loveliest. "That depends whether I wish to wear its scent, or simply draw pleasure from gazing upon it. I take it you are referring to the later. In that case, I favour roses." She tilted closer, as if she were divulging a secret. "Not red. They draw attention all too readily. I like soft pink, damask. A rose that knows the merit of discretion. Beautiful enough to be admired, but not so eager as to demand admiration." A chuckle slipped free, amused by her own philosophising. "I would enjoy that very much. The flowers, as well as the token of hope." She searched Baeksa's gaze before she continued. "Are you fretful of who is to be elected crownwearer? You speak so candidly of hope, I would imagine it is a wish that rests closely to your heart." She hoped he would read it more a thoughtful observation, than idle presumption. "Your hollow may yet prevail."

"As lovely as they are potent, indeed." A nod, and a wry flicker. "I will handle them with great care."

Amarei looked to the flower he had tucked behind his ear, and found the display endearing enough to emulate it -- dark silken lock brushed behind her own ear, before a single oleander was secured in place, in perfect mirror of Baeksa's. She breathed a girlish laugh, and nodded at his words. "Lavender is a gentle way of cutting through Jasmine's heaviness. I prefer the latter at little bit less cloying, myself." She observed. "A calming scent, all while preserving Jasmine's allure. I do not have it on me at present. But I shall bring you a vial, next time." She let her mind drift to Lenore ever-so-briefly, of how beautifully the scent had enveloped her, before turning to Baeksa once more. "Not at all. I would be delighted to accompany you."

[talesinrequiem]

a busy man indeed. despite fighting for the crown not being his main goal in life. not how it had been the plan with cem. he was willing to give it a try. the more cavit had thought about it, the more he yearned for it. with each passing hour it was as if his very soul had started to salivate at the idea. that monstrous part of him loved the idea more and more. he knew, eventually, it would turn from a passing fancy, to a need.

needs among his family always seemed to border obsessions. where one person may fear the idea, he reveled in it. if it truly became such, cavit knew he was making the right decision. “i believe power has the ability to corrupt, no matter who it may be,” he offered softly, not meant as a slight to the family the younger man came from but as a simple truth. “but perhaps that is the nature of it all. we are simple creatures in the end. none of us are safe from people trying to use us or the idea of using others crossing our minds. truly, none of us are safe from this. despite what we all may think.”

cavit didn’t shifted as young cai walked towards him. watching his gait, not seeing a threat within left him with no need to. but the words that came next truly hit something in him that ached. there was no hiding the shift in his eyes, even if he had tried. for all of his conversations as of late, he could not recall anyone actually giving their condolences. not without a slight tone of mockery or drunkness. this was, dare he think, earnest.

“i truly thought one day we would leave this life together just as we had come into it,” he provided in a low tone, a rawer edge than he had intended as he swallowed down anything else. “thank you for your thoughts. i pray this loss is not one you shall ever need to endure.”

[springscngs]

In the other man's candour, Cai found a strange sense of comfort he rarely drew from courtly interactions. Seldom did he encounter a courtier who did not have preconceived notions, of his name, at the very least. Whispers of his fanciful nature had often reached them, painting the image of a young, idle man who did not care to entangle himself in the complexities of their world. Such assumptions frequently preceded him, more gild than gold -- charm without substance, grace without discipline.

Cavit, instead, offered truth so plainspoken that it astonished Cai into a momentary spell of silence. It did not elude him that the tactic was a clever one. If Cai were truly as vapid as gossip made him out to be, Cavit's warning would pass over him entirely, leaving him untroubled. If, however, it struck at some deeper apprehension -- his response would betray misgivings readily enough.

A test. Cai's lips curved faintly -- to use or to be used, indeed. "I am inclined to agree, Lord Cavit. One need not practise opportunism oneself, to be caught in court's machinations." A revelation: Cai was more aware than he cared to admit. He may have been wasteful of opportunities, of privilege he held in abundance. But he knew none at court would emerge untouched by its intrigues. "And there is some relief to be found in your wisdom, given you may yet find yourself balancing said crown."

It seemed that honesty was the prevailing thread of their conversation. The death of a sibling, the loss of a life gone before his time -- the memory of bloodspill, harrowing, senseless. Cai's gaze pooled with a fear he had faced often, as of late: The fear of losing one of his own. Perhaps, his father had hoped for one of his brood to make a bid for the crown. Cai could not even measure his own relief that none of them had tried to grasp at it. "I do not think I could conceive of life without my brother and sister in it. I have never had to." It was true; what few months of his life he had lived with his birth parents, he could not remember. Evandris and Aeliana had shaped every season of his life, ever since. "It pains me that you are faced with such a reality."

[wcnderingsovls]

the young caldrithen was not unsettled by the words lord elarion uttered; in fact, they were the very ones she had asked herself when she thought on submitting her name for crownwearer in the first place. anyone who was acquainted with rhyaenna knew her not as someone rash or particularly moved by emotion. she was steadfast, strong. her resolve was rarely shaken -- but it recently had been. uncovering her mother's deception had re-opened wounds she long ago thought had been scabbed over and forgotten. returning to heliophra was no help in the matter. this was the first time in her life she did not know what the outcome would be to a decision. it was terrifying, but she would not let it show. she would walk towards her end with her head held high.

"as the son of a council member, you are the last i thought would be speaking of them as a burden." it was well-known that the elarion children stood behind their father aether. now, it seemed, there were cracks within the foundation. "you have thought me callous in the past -- for entertaining your affections when my intention was always to marry another." she looked to cai, her light eyes taking him in. she did not know what it was to love anyone; to love was to be left defenseless. but lord elarion had embedded himself within the hollow of her chest. she stood no chance against what had become a part of herself. "but i am the daughter of a woman who has been overlooked all her life. and when she met my father, he could not give her what she most desired: a title. but he gave her a daughter, and in her, she could do all that she never could on her own. "

she stepped closer to him as she said, "do you know what being overlooked can do to someone? do you know the hunger it breeds?" rhyaenna shook her head. "all my life, i have been told that the only power i will ever come close to is that of my spouse. i am only as valuable as what they choose to see in me, and we both know beauty is fleeting." she did not need him to understand, only to listen. "becoming crownwearer is the only way i can achieve power and a title all on my own. i would have no use for a marriage forged only by politics and not--" love. she would not say it. not now when he stood before her and she had already cracked her ribs open so he could peer inside.

she looked to his outstretched hand and her hand stilled in the air above it, holding the ring. carefully, she set it in his palm, and she made no attempt to pull away from his touch. it lingered there for only a moment before rhyaenna moved swiftly to wrap her fingers around his wrist before he could draw back. she wanted to dig her nails into his skin and leave crescent-marks in her wake. the young caldrithen stifled the desire, if only to voice what had been on her mind since he came to stand by her. "what is the meaning of this?" she did not understand what he wanted from her. why now? "have you only come to warn me of the target i have placed on myself? because i am well aware i have tied my own noose."

quiet followed. a warm breeze ruffled her raven hair, but her gaze remained steady on the younger man as he asked his question. "you are inconvenient, cai." she did not spare her words. "and yet i cannot bring myself to turn away." with her fingers still around his wrist, she spoke, "i am tethered to you as the moon is to this earth." she took one step towards him. and then another. and then she was only a breath away. she let go of his wrist only to hold his palm to her chest. "don't you feel it?"

[springscngs]

"As the son of a council member," the syllables came with a drag, weighted and unsteady, spoken with more effort than they should have required. He was reluctant to voice what his mind had been circling, withholding. Afraid that naming it could give it shape he could no longer deny -- and eventually, inevitably, bind thought to consequence. Cai settled for a softer admission, instead. If he was to speak truth, and admit distrusting his father's intentions, he would only do so in the presence of his siblings. "I am entitled to a mind of my mind, regardless of what I have been taught to parrot." An exhale. "I have every reason to be cautious. We all do."

He listened, holding his silence even when it became painful to do so. Power, in Cai's understanding, was no liberation. It was immeasurable responsibility, if taken seriously. The narrowing of one's own choices, until nothing of oneself remained. If taken lightly, placed in the hands of those least deserving, it was ruin. He did not think ill of Rhyaenna's character, but he would prefer her far from the potential of ruin. "No, I do not know the hunger that gnaws at you. But I am willing to listen, even if I have never mourned that I am not destined for greatness and power, myself." He answered. "I will not turn away from uncomfortable truths, this time."

Cai made a conscious choice not to wade into how he, too, had been given little agency since he was awarded the name Elarion. Privilege had come aplenty, but the day his father chose to arrange a betrothal for him, would be the day he would have no choice but to bow his head and obey. In truth, he had never stopped to consider the alternative. He'd indulged in trysts of his choosing, as often and as long as freedom would allow. But he knew well that freedom tasted sweetest when its end was nearing. "How would you counter the council's influence? You do not wish for your mother to dictate your path, but I doubt the members of the council would grant you the autonomy you seek. Is is truly all so that you do not need to marry someone of your mother's choosing?" A pause, his emerald gaze softening, within sparking something of a plea that she would spare him her wrath. "It is a brave endeavour. But bravery isn't always wise."

When she coiled her fingers around his wrist, he made no attempt to move. He remained rooted to the spot, not because she had restrained him, but because he knew there was no escaping what would come next. "I have come, because I care what becomes of you. Whether or not you are elected to be crownwearer. You are well aware of the cost, but… you were not aware of my sentiments." His smile was crooked, half-hearted. As if he wished to apologise for his own arrogance, long worn as a shield, it had now become a liability in her presence. "This is the part where you remind me you have no use for them any longer."

He allowed for a few breaths between them, his palm settling against her chest easily, comfortably. Familiar. "As the moon is to this earth." The echo lifted a faint smile to his lips. "I feel it. I felt it then, too. Before I walked away." In spite of himself, of the blinding fear of speaking aloud what could not be unsaid, he continued. "I never truly thought you callous. You struck me as stronger than I could ever hope to be -- to surrender a piece of your heart unto me, and plan your future with another. I feared, if I had given you a piece of mine in turn... I would not have so easily found a way to live without it. Without you. I have learned since that I have no say in my heart's affairs." Only then did he stir one hand away from her chest, ring held tautly in the other hand. He lifted free fingers to her face, brushing against her soft cheek. "I loved you, too. -- I love you, still." He held onto the ring tighter, then. To brace himself for the final blow, for what would end, now -- inescapable consequence. But as he had avowed, he would not turn from uncomfortable truths this time. "Whatever comes next, I will follow your lead. Turn away, and let me be the one to bleed this time. Or tell me to turn away, and I will do so, as if I never stood here at all."