#beqanna

[soggy-rock]

A gift for a friend ((Sorry for the very smol size, I didn’t think to resize it while sketching it out ORZ))

[pixelcache-blog]

[pixelcache-blog]

pixel pony

[stuckinherbaydreams]

just some of my writing don't mind me.

Cezanne was raised as the son of a diplomat and so he knows not to speak out of turn. He is only blunt when he needs to be and for the most part he can hold his tongue (except for when he is unbearably angry; those are the days he does not like to think about). More and more frequently the words have come less often, whether in casual conversation or in debate over kingdom matters. To say that the boy is depressed is a tad of an understatement—though recently crowned king of the Dale, he still finds every single day a struggle.

Not a day goes by that he doesn’t think of that last conversation with Violette, the angry words that he used to tear them even further apart. The memory of that day still haunts him; his anger at Vi, Marston’s anger at him, Violette’s quiet acceptance of his angry words. And then she had just vanished again. Her and Marston both; he hasn’t seen his brother since that day, either. That loss, though, doesn’t affect him nearly as profoundly as Vi’s loss does. Where is she? What is she doing at this very moment? He does not know. She could be anywhere in the world.

He wonders if things would’ve been different if she had stayed. If she would’ve come to the Dale with him and they had started a family there. The twins and Aleks and how many more kids they could dream of having… but it’s too late now, much too late to think about any of that. He has a bigger responsibility now—ruling the Dale—and everything else will have to come second to that. Future relationships, children… the Dale is his first priority now.

He says that, but is it really true? Everyone knows that family means the world to him.

The sound of someone approaching comes from nearby, but he doesn’t look around; it could be anyone at all and he doesn’t care. It isn’t until a voice reaches his ears and a familiar scent wraps around him that he starts, turning to face the woman that haunts his every waking—and most of his sleeping—moment. He trembles as he takes her in, fighting with every bit of self-control he has not to launch himself at her to wrap her in an embrace. It can’t be, he thinks, but it is. Oh, it is. It’s her. It’s her, it’s Violette. It’s Vi.

The face was older and the voice sounded nothing like it once had, but it was her all right. With a sad smile he tears his gaze from her and looks across the Meadow, eyes troubled. “Nothing is as it was, my love,” he murmurs before returning his gaze—almost hungrily—to her once more. His voice is sad, though, as he reminisces. So much has changed; so much has happened since they last met. He isn’t angry anymore, not in the least. He’s just missed her for so long. “Charo named me co-King of the Dale a few sunrises ago,” he tells her, a bit of pride creeping into that sad voice. “She was a dear friend. She passed away shortly after the announcement.”

He doesn’t know why he’s telling her this, but once the words start it’s almost like they can’t stop. There is so much to fill her in on, so much to tell her before she disappears once more.

[stuckinherbaydreams]

I used to think Maye was just like me. Now I realize that my character that is most like me is Cezanne.