#cn;starter

[rgxcain-blog]

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

prompt: “This is without a doubtthe stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.” 

[ 1492 ]

“of course you are,”cain reaffirms, fixing the gloves on his hands and brushing his hair back. hisgaze remains upon his own expression, and not the figure behind him. the princesquints, wishes he had his glasses – his vision has, at least, stopped itssteady decline, but that doesn’t mean that the damage hasn’t been done.

“and i don’t know whatyou mean by ‘stupid plan’. i personally think it is a great plan.”

he turns on his heel,and beckons for her to come forward. by now, she should know to fix his clothing for him. squinting can only let himsee so much, and although his eyes are important in war, he’s learned to relyon other senses for battle. except appearances are, apparently, a requirement,and he can’t very well put up a good one if he can’t even see himself properly.

“sending a mutilatedcorpse to our enemies would send a muchclearer message than any kind of written note, wouldn’t you agree, scott? besides, i quite liked the whole...mutilating process.”

[rgxcain-blog]

(AU Verse) “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

prompt: “I’ve seenthe way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

[ AU ; sometime in the future ]

cain makes a point not to look at her. he had made thatmistake briefly when she entered his study. the way his body reacted wasinstantaneous, and the nib of his quill did not cease in its delicate curvesand learned insistence on paper. this was his assistant’s job, and he wasn’teven supposed to be here, yet having the princess enter made it (slightly)worth it.

“and how is that?” heasks, finishing one page of his report and starting on another, setting thepaper aside to let the ink dry. he dips his quill into ink again, sets it ontopaper so mechanically that the repetition is starting to grate on his nerves. he’dnever been good at sitting still. “make it quick, lady dragonborn. wouldn’t your husband be wondering where you’ve gone off to?”

[rgxcain-blog]

“Come over here and make me.”

prompt: “Come over here and makeme.”

[ 1491 ]

if there was anythingthat cain did not and could not tolerate, it was disrespect. perhaps he was tooused to it – even in his starting days as a seaman, he expected respect from both his superiors and his fellowmen, thoughthe latter could be subjected to fear if need be. and as the war raged on, hefound that a firm hand was needed in keeping everyone on the same task, andthus towards victory. it was how he had managed to help defend the navalterritory of elv, and promptly expand it, despite the process being tedious.

so he would not allowany little voice from the group of men and women temporarily assigned for himto train.

he strode with purpose,and although his vision was somewhat blurry, his hearing did not fail him. hishand shot out towards the girl, fist tightening around her collar. cain did notsay a single word, and roughly pulled on the uniform as he returned to thecentre of the makeshift ring of officers, intending to have her in tow.

“today, we’re going to focus on waterbending,” cainrepeated, his earlier tone never having an ounce of the momentary burst ofanger that he had felt then. he let go of the cloth in his hand and finallyturned to the officer before him – something about her seemed familiar, but ifcain could not remember immediately, then she was not worth remembering at all.

“i don’t give a flying rat’s shit about whether you wantto fight me or not.” the brigadier general assumed a familiar stance; his palmscoaxed water to surround him until they became suspended in liquid coils winding around each arm, never quite touching his clothes. “how am i to expect you to fight the suryans at their war ifyou can’t beat me at my own game?”

[rgxcain-blog]

“I swear it was an accident.”

prompt: “I swear it was anaccident.”

[ 1479 ]

cain’s visit to duur wassupposed to be fun – which, incain-speak, meant some form of harm inflicted on anyone other than himself.just because he was outside home territory didn’t mean that he couldn’t cause alittle bit of damage on someone. hisidea of a ‘good time’ included (but was not limited to) tormenting theservants, then ‘tricking’ the lords that roamed around where they may.

all his exploits wouldbe chalked up to boyish mischief: light-hearted, and not intending any real harm – or so it was excused.

sneaking up on one of the princesses had been part of hisbucket list.being knocked flat on his ass on a stone path was not.

it wasn’t the pain thatalarmed him. it was the blood – real blood! from him! – that blossomed above theskin of his palms that rendered him silent. he looked up when the princess madethe utterance, but his gaze returned once again to his hands and then towardsher, a quiet sort of wonder overcoming him completely.

[rgxcain-blog]

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

prompt: “Don’t you dare throwthat snowba-, goddammit!”

[ 1477 ]

the thing about elv isthat winters get very, very cold, and people are often lethargic and slow whenthe season for warm fires and thick sheets of snow and cloth become the norm.

cain doesn’t like slow. nor does he like the fact thateveryone tends to stay indoors – there’s so much of the outside world to enjoy.the risk of sickness is always pushed to the side when winter rolls around, andeven more so when the tempestade children come to visit. the southeners are alwaysfun to mess with in his home territory.

today’s victim, then, isone of the princesses who have been unlucky enough to tag along with herfamily. unfortunately for her, cain’s idea of playtime at six years old involves some form ofphysical assault – the mental kind, he reserves for the ones who look like thescars wouldn’t disappear quite so easily.

his hair is flecked withsoft stars and the tenderness of the early beginnings of winter – not itsbiting harshness – is mimicked by his smile. yet his intentions are anythingbut, and he throws the snowball at the princess with the enthusiasm of asadistic little boy who’s out for blood. metaphorically speaking.

almost instantly, the snow responds to the stompingof his little foot. he can’t throw projectiles yet, but he knows how to do thelittle things, and a ball of packed ice doesn’t take much. “come on, then! you’renot going to just let me hit you, areyou? that’d be no fun at all!”