#axtiusosanos

[gerardmacanthos-blog]

Eavesdropping, one of life’s little pleasures, was a habit he’d picked up quite young. That was the only way to hear the sound of his mother’s voice when he was younger, but as he grew out of the need to garner Lavina’s attention, Gerard realized he liked knowing things about people when they didn’t know he knew. 

Diana’s habit of ranting and raving and sharing her judgments with him, ( always accompanied with the familiar exchange of her, ‘you can’t say anything, ever, or i’ll kill you’ and his ‘can you manage? you’re so short’ ) hadn’t helped his little problem. 

Rarely was anything he ever overheard was that serious, tending to stay in the vein of one of the princesses giggling about Griffin being her first kiss ( and Gods help that one, honestly ). Of course, at age ten he’d overheard his future being signed away, but even that knowledge hadn’t helped him stop the process. 

Now, after having listened to Aetius Osanos argue with his father about his lack of romantic prospects for the last five minutes, Gerard was almost too engrossed in the family’s trials and tribulations to move when the younger nymph stalked away from the older and came the stoneskin’s way. 

Almost. 

Gerard nodded at the other man as Aetius came his way, pulling out his flask as he did so. For a moment, he questioned his own intentions. He didn’t feel S Y M P A T H Y for people, even those who looked as distraught as Aetius. But he knew, firsthand, the struggles that came with parents who only ever existed to throw wrenches in their childrens’ plans, and, after all- 

Alcohol was never fun to drink alone. 

@axtiusosanos

[genevicve]

Dream

The flat of his sword came down upon her head; it didn’t hurt. The force of it drove her downwards, the floor dissolving beneath them like stars against the blackened backdrop of the sky, and Genevieve grabbed his shirt in her fist so that she wouldn’t fall alone.

It happened slowly, like drowning, with her hair rippling out, with his shirt billowing. She shouted something in words that didn’t quite matter, but that tasted heavy and tart as beetroots on her tongue. The snow was beneath them, holding them like a palm holds its lines. She hadn’t noticed when they had stopped falling; that was the way of it in dreams. Aetius was on top of her, a thickly muscled thigh pressed between her legs. Warm, despite the snow. She had the vaguest impression of an igloo above their heads, and lights in powdery soft pinks and blues, blinking at the like old friends - though she couldn’t say where they were from.

Her lips found his without any sense of urgency: they were just two flakes of snow drifting together, again and again. 

Genevieve blinked, disoriented. She thought she might have fallen asleep in her dream and so woken up, and was immediately reminded of what the dream had been. How strange. It didn’t bother her; in the gentle grey dawnlight cradling her window, she felt warm and content.

[docrobinsong-blog]

“The world is quiet here.”

Aetius had his first trip to Naercey today, and the entire city was abuzz. This had to go well. The fate of the entire Guard rested in his hands. He had to be content with whatever he saw. Robin cleaned the emergency apartments and went up the stairs to her second floor library. She wasn’t needed, and the natural, late afternoon light streaming in through the windows was too good to pass up. She sat on her couch and pulled a book from the piled of “currently being read” books on the coffee table. She sank back and let herself get lost in the fantasy.

“The world is quiet here,” a man’s voice said. Robin looked up. Aetius. She hadn’t met him yet, and didn’t think she would unless she visited Archeon. Robin stood up. “No, sit,” he said, so Robin sat back down. He wandered among her shelves as she tried to ignore him and keep reading. He picked up a book, finally, and sat down on the couch next to Robin. Out of all the other chairs in the room, he chose to sit next to her, a lowly Red. “I’m Aetius,” he said.

“I -” Robin stopped herself before she could say I know in a protective voice that was instinctual from her time with the Silvers another lifetime ago. “I’m Robin,” she said, and gave him a small smile, before turning back to her book. She heard him open his book, and they sat like that until dinner, quiet, bathed in a world of near-sunset light.