After much deliberation ( way too much deliberation... ) I decided to make a fresh start and move all my muses here! BUT if we have any threads I will gladly carry those over!
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@tevinterson
After much deliberation ( way too much deliberation... ) I decided to make a fresh start and move all my muses here! BUT if we have any threads I will gladly carry those over!
GOTHIC LITERATURE.
bold what applies. italicize what sometimes applies. repost, don’t reblog.
i. DRACULA. cold to the touch. flickering candles. cold breath upon your neck. billowing white gowns. midnight strolls. pearl trimmed bands. indulging in your deepest desires. the fall from grace. the fear of outsiders. bloodstained sheets. dark imaginations. something lurking in the shadows. the urge to run away. glowing eyes in the darkness. the scent of garlic. preying on the weak. the power to both bring and take life.
ii. THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. old bookshelves. kisses on the hand. devotion to the finer things in life. prizing youth and beauty above all. paying the ultimate price. the pursuit of pleasure. blood red sins painted over in white snow. a drug-induced stupor. breaking the heart of the one you love. losing what’s left of your humanity.
iii. FRANKENSTEIN. frantic sketches. the stench of something rotten. unorthodox beliefs. a scream from the woods. candles burning out. dangerous knowledge. contemplating existence. the crunch of leaves. the chill of winter in your bones. dark ambitions. prometheus reborn. the contrast between life and death.
iv. THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. false accusations. taking justice into your own hands. divine justice. elaborate schemes. playing upon others’ weaknesses. the solitude of the ocean. an ever-changing identity. dissatisfaction in your life. an alienation from humanity. escaping from prison.
tagged by @stihomythia ( ty! )
tagging: ya’ll
all my grief says the same thing:this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. and the world laughs. holds my hope by the throat. says:but this is how it is
Fortesa Latifi
stihomythia:
starter for @tevinterson from Morrigan
She huffs, staff blade piercing the demon at her feet, green fluid splashing everywhere and covering her leather boots - well, they weren’t a nice pair, and she has been gifted better whilst by Celene’s side. Donning her casual attire for the first time in years, Morrigan has joined the Inquisition, ever so benevolently, a common goal being the end of a war that seemed to wreak havoc everywhere in Thedas. Morrigan has heard all about Gereon Alexius, a magister with a dark cause, yet one that derived from a source not many would assume; curing his son in a deal made with an ancient darkspawn, it all seemed to Morrigan another foolish idea sparked in the mind of a desperate human. However, Alexius is now working for the Inquisition, and she sees the benefit in that - he is brilliant, and she wishes to learn more about his time magic and its effects.
An interesting figure, that of his son, cured of the taint in undertaking the Joining and becoming tainted once more has also joined the Inquisition, in tow of his good friend, the young altus Pavus. Morrigan has been intrigued by this course of events but not had the chance to converse with any of the Tevinter additions to the cause, until recently when Felix Alexius and she were tasked with retrieving his father’s notes and ancient texts from the Venatori that might return for them in Redcliffe. Joined by Leliana’s agents, Felix and Morrigan have been fighting for the better part of the morning, staves moving almost in sync as they battled their supernatural foes. The Alexius heir seems potent enough, why would the Wardens conscript him after all, yet Morrigan knew his expertise lay elsewhere. A land of languages unheard in hundreds, thousands of years, and numbers creating formulas that could explain but also - based on his father’s breakthrough - destroy the world.
“I think that is the last of them.” Morrigan states and brushes off some dust and mud from her robes. They’re casual wear but she is not one to forget about vanity especially after having spent a few years in the Empress’ inner circle. She hangs her staff on the belt around her back, and turns to look at her Tevinter companion, who has been dealing with some Venatori underlings a few feet away. “Hmm - rather quaint how you actually managed to disarm so many of them. I thought you nobles were only good for one thing; well two, if you count the courtly intrigue etc etc.”
Pools of distilled time still remain — temporal scars left as a result of Gereon Alexius’ misguided desperation. To save me… and guilt snakes it’s way between his more urgent thoughts as they steadily fight their way through the maze of hallways and passages left in disarray. It was no wonder the Arl had not been able to return, it would take months to restore the damage and clear out the demonic infestation drawn like carrion birds through the decimated Veil. They had not been counting on the small bands of Venatori and if Felix were to hazard a guess, they are here for the same reason. His companion appeared unphased and he thought they worked rather well together, all things considered. Felix would be the first to admit to being an abysmal mage, relying more on physical strength and his heavy stave than his primal, ice-based spells, as well as being fully aware that his companion was doing more to protect him ( not that she would admit as much ). So naturally, he did what he could to make himself useful. The result: a layer of frost on almost every surface and several solidly frozen Venatori and mangled denizens of the Fade. Some shattered. It was going to be a real mess when they thawed... He turns to her as she finishes off the last, his expression a question then carefully unreadable as he contemplates the remark. Their breathing leaves whisps in the air. “ —— Oh? I thought I was being rather — ” He glances down as the Venatori crumpled at his feet begins to stir and calmly plunges the blade-end of his stave deeply into the exposed neck to silence. “ — efficient. ” He pulls the blade out, wipes off the blood on the dead Spellbinder’s robes and gestures with a sharply gauntleted hand that she follow as he picks his way over the bodies ( aside from several demons and abominations there was a mage, two Spellbinders and a couple of Gladiators ) scattered across the floor amidst the demonic corpses. It was the Venatori presence that held his attention. The warriors were Soporati; hired muscle and possibly indentured into the servitude of the Venatori. Ah, yes. . . my homeland truly is lamentable. “ You have clearly never navigated the Imperial Courts. Less high fashion and scandalously placed gloves and considerably more. . . et cetera, et cetera. ” An eyebrow quirks as he regards her briefly with a wavering shadow of amusement. “ It’s impressive that a witch from the Kocari Wilds managed to place herself in the heart of Orlesian power, ” he continues, tone conversational as he lifts off a broken door hanging from its hinges and casts it aside before stepping back politely to let her pass. “ You have proven to be immensely talented so I am not particularly surprised. ”
Sometimes, my body feels like a burial ground for all the people I should have become.
“Requiem” by Roe Gardner
So I have been lurking for a time ( cus I am a shy potate and I have been away for so long! ) and I thought of doing a hard reboot BUT I am just going be cleaning up a little instead. You can also find me on Anders and Alistair and I have recently made a Krem so if anyone is interested in plots and interacting with these guys, give me a shout! I will be posting plotting calls and that soon ( ish ) and catching up on some of the replies and asks I owe ( if you see a reply for you and you are not interested in carrying on the thread anymore please don't feel obligated to do so! Also, if I have forgotten anything let me know! )
Blackchords - Into The Unknown
Iit is a great day to remember Gereon Alexius and that he wasn’t always the shittiest dad.
TIMOR MORTIS CONTURBAT ME ——— THE FEAR OF DEATH CONFOUNDS ME. // independent and private dorian pavus of dragon age, by mimi.
I apologize for vanishing. Yet Again. I haven’t been.... in a very good head space for some time but I am fighting my way back. Please know that how long I take to reply to things or to write you a starter or reply to a message does not equate my interest in a thread or in writing and interacting with you. I love and appreciate everyone I talk to even if it is very seldom. I have just been really bad at it which I will write down simply as acute anxiety. Thanks for being patient with me!
are there rebellious archivists? other than YOU, that is. // independent dorian pavus, written by mimi. est. jan 2016.
Because Bioware CANNOT get timelines right by any stretch of the imagination I constructed my own for Felix because of Structure™ or whatever. 9:13 Felix was born. 9:18 Age 4: His magic started to manifest at an early age. They were hopeful. 9:21 Age 8: He was sent to the Minrathous Circle to begin training. 9:26 Age 13: After years showing little to no signs of improvement, it was accepted that his magic was limited and decided to explore other possible talents he may possess instead, noting his intelligence and willingness to learn. He studied art, music, history, language, astronomy and it was soon discovered that he had a talent for mathematics. What a nerd. 9:28 Age 15: His grandfather tries to have him assassinated. 9:29 Age 16: After several short trips to Val Royeax, he was given a scholarship at the University of Orlais. Much to the surprise of everyone, including himself. This is also around the time Gereon takes on Dorian as his apprentice. 9:30 Age 17: Begins his studies in Orlais. He thrives. ( I even got his semesters sort of planned out. * — wHY? ) 9:35 Age 22: That Darkspawn Attack. Life Changes. 9:37 Age 24: Dorian leaves Gereon’s apprenticeship. There are dark days ahead. At some point betwen 9:37 and 9:39 Alexius joins the Venatori, swayed by the Elder Ones promise to save his son. ( What could go wrong? ) 9:40 Age 27: Gereon approaches Dorian to join the Venatori. Is rather offended when he says no. They make plans to leave Minrathous to travel south. 9:41 Age 28: The Breach spits out demons, the Venatori fuck everyones shit up and steal a castle. Felix has to wear a mustard dragon suit for a cult he doesn’t want to be a part of and Dorian has a crash course in camping in the Hinterlands ( why is the south so cold ) before joining the Inquisition ( still really cold ). *1st semester: early Vermensis ( Wintermarch ) - late Moroilis ( Bloomingtide ) ( just over 4 months with a short mid semester break ) Summer Break: the rest of Moroilis - early Matrinalis ( August ) ( almost 3 months ) 2nd Semester: the rest of Matrinalis - late Cassus ( Haring ) ( Just over 4 months with a short mid semester break ) Short Winter Break: the rest of Cassus to early Vermensis - it was during a trip home in late Cassus where they were attacked.
OH talk about the difference between felix before and after the blight infection
We only hear about what Felix was like before he was tainted through some extremely vague comments from Dorian.
Things we do know:
- He was kind, decent, good and all the rest of it.- He was always “ a man of his word ” which translates to me as being someone whowas genuine and had no ulterior motives or hidden agendas.- He was mischievous and broke the rules where he could… just sneaking treats?I don’t think so. Not by a long shot.- He was intelligent and mathematically gifted but was terrible at magic ANDALL THAT.- I think he was also very wise and insightful in that quiet, observant way.- He had a lot of eclectic talents from all the tutors he had growing up.- His grandfather tried to have him killed. - Dorian didn’t want to jeopardize his apprenticeship by seducing the son of his benefactor.
Now obviously BEFORE goes into uncharted territory so I canonly hope my interpretation is okay. BUT in the end, I simply want to conveyis that he wasn’t his illness and how much it destroyed him.
- Though not exuberant and loud, Felix was energetic and adventurous. He may nothave been magically gifted but, physically he was a picture of perfect health and considerably athletic. He wasfluid and very expressive and rarely ever still. After being tainted everything changed and EVERYTHINGHURT all the time. In spite of his father’s treatments, the Blight sickness took aheavy toll on him. He was far more subdued and quiet and his moods became muted and less exuberant. Likewhen you see him at Redcliffe, that was a pretty decent day.- Magic aside, he learned many other ways to defend himself and was formidable in hand-to-hand combat and skilled with various weapons from daggers and swards to archery and pole-arms. Hey, it would have been unwise for him not to be able to fend for himself. He was generally passive, rarely retaliating and avoided confrontation if he could. However, he took down several Hurlock before they were completely overpowered and was the sole survivor. Even though he was left Tainted, he continued to train when he could with a devastating sort of determination.
- He was always a bit of an introvert, preferring a small group of really closefriends to being everyone’s friendly acquaintance, but he was sociable and hada way with people and always managed to surround himself with a circle offriends no matter where he was. Dorian very quickly became his closest anddearest. Being Tainted cost him almost all of those, obviously. Both by his own withdrawal and bythe inevitable fact of human nature that some people are just there for thefair weather.
- I really need to write some specificlove and possibly sexcanons at some point but if you think he didn’t have hisfair share of relationships and dalliances then you’re wrong. He even convincedhimself that he had fallen in love on more than one occasion only to have heartsbroken. It kills me to think of him finally meeting THAT SOMEONE and they fall so completely and helplessly and stupidly in love and start seriously planning a future together where the separate narratives of “me” and “you” become a combined tale of “us” and they can’timagine a life without each other and they would have sons and daughters who would be magically gifted, or not, it didn’t matter because the story would continue and they would live long and grow old… only his story abruptly began it’s end in the early predawn hours of one bitterly cold morning a few miles from Hossberg as he lay, own blood pooling around him, the corrupted Darkspawn dagger hilt-deep in his side.
- Basically Before: he was all promise and hope with plans for a future where he would go on to do something worthwhile and he was prepared to give everything he had to change the world for the better. After: was just this continuous wanting waitingto die — but he still fought till the end and gave whatever was left of himself if it could make even the smallest difference.
What was your relationship with your mother like?
Ha, ok. I decided not to answer this in character because he comes from a loving and supportive family ( which is something or a rarity Tevinter ) so naturally he loved her and he would simply say as much. It wasn’t complicated. She was the Soccer Mom of the Altus matriarchy. ( But also deadly and vicious and you wouldn’t want to fuck with her. ) Simply put, she was uncompromisingly strict, commanding, powerful, fierce and he wanted nothing more than to make her proud( but also not have her worry about him ). He took after Livia far more than he did Gereon, inheriting her independent and willful nature as well as many of her features. He was definitely closer to her than he was his father who at times could be ( unintentionally ) distant and preoccupied. As a small boy, she was far more present as a parent, seldom leaving him to the care of servants. However, she would never fuss over him nor was she overly affectionate ( never more than a light hug or a hand on the shoulder — which is A LOT ) and left him to fight his own battles and learn from his own mistakes. However, she expressed her love for her son notably more than was common among the other matriarchs in Tevinter. He was a gifted young man who had a keen and analytical mind that could grasp and expand on complex ideas quickly. His lack of magical talent did not detract from his understanding and she felt he could still contribute much to thaumaturgical research. This could revolutionize the study of magic but this approach wasn’t taken seriously since he himself wasn’t powerful enough a mage. LIvia was so furious with him when he insisted she didn’t retaliate when his grandfather tried to have him assassinated. He argued that he was family and the actual assassin who had been sent was dead. It was over. Mercy was the one thing you couldn’t afford in the higher echelons of the Imperium. She feared this unfathomable compassion would be a weakness, a fatal flaw — far more than his lack of magical talent. And yet, she never tried to change that about him. He had a disarming influence on people and such an incorruptible goodness but she constantly feared for him even though he was cunning and resourceful. Being tainted was nothing in comparison to how much her death decimated him. No one could convince him that it wasn’t his fault and that he shouldn’t have been the one to die instead.
( Dorian )
There is something restless and wanting in him —— it, that unfathomable IT, beats against his ribs in a desperate bit to get out / get out / GET OUT. Confusion / fear / discomfort is an ill fitting cloak : too tight around his shoulders and constricting at his arms and billowing at his legs, as if begging him to run. Yet, all the same, saying that he will never truly be free.
Once upon a time these things were foreign to him : confusion / fear / discomfort.
The boy / man / mage / practically soporati approaches him and he nearly takes a step back. His lungs crave freedom, or the idea of freedom, or the false freedom that he had made for himself in the slums of Minrathous in the arms of whomever would take him —— or whomever he could afford for the night. There were times when he could almost pretend that he was free from the golden cage that he had been locked and bound in and he could almost pretend that he was something in the realm of HAPPY.
Happiness is a strange ideal that fits him as poorly as confusion / fear / discomfort and he looks at FELIX and thinks of a time, not so long ago, when he had been : powerful / feared / adored / respected / loved by his mother / loved by his father. He looks at Felix and remembers ——
❝ Livia’s boy has shown some magical talent, after all these years,❞ the MATRIARCH sits at the head : which is to say she sits in the largest chair in her personal sitting room, surrounded by other women.
He : THE SON lurks just beneath the window, young and curious and wishing to hear, to understand that unfathomable thing that is society.
Someone makes an inquisitive noise and he nearly wants to leverage himself up the windowsill to see. Perhaps he would have, if he could escape his mother’s wrath soon afterword. ❝ Truly? And here I thought —— ❞
❝ It would have been beneficial if he had nothing at all,” she speaks as if her words at the unquestionable truth and he imagines her drinking out of her tea cup, keeping all attention on her : the malevolent overseer. ❝ He is weak. Practically no magic at all. Certainly nothing compared to my Dorian.❞
And in spite of her tone, as if she is bored yet all-mighty, he feels something inside of him PREENING and he smiles and presses himself close to the wall : hoping and wanting and parched for more.
The cloak is taken from him and Felix is speaking and there is something unrecognizable in his voice that Dorian has not heard in an age and he thinks that it is something like —— warmth. A healthy dose of nerves, as well. He watches him closely yet finds himself surprised by the hand on his shoulder, leading him forward, and his feet move forward in spite of their screaming desire to retreat. Personally, he thinks that he is rather distracted by the bruise on Felix’s face.
A physical altercation. He recognizes the shape and location well. Though they had often been on others, not himself.
❝ I’m quite aware of who you are, ❞ impatience sours his voice and his mouth sets soon after speaking aloud and he wonders, abstractly, if he should apologize for the way that he sounded. ❝ And I, truly, should be on my way. There’s hardly any need to bother your servants at such an hour. ❞
If his mother and father could see him now ( though the point is that they can’t, and he’d much rather it STAY THAT WAY, thank you very much. hence the need to LEAVE, POSTHASTE. ) he would be smacked on the wrist for his lack of politeness and given another lecture, though this one would last a few minutes, at most. He thinks of how his father respected Alexius, or something in that area. He thinks of how his mother had disparaged Felix, all that time ago.
The hand on his shoulder is warm and it is not forcing, merely directing : a benevolent force. He thinks, helplessly, of his father’s hand on his shoulder, gripping and harsh and pushing as he led him to the Order of Argent and his mother’s nails digging in when he returned home from yet another circle and ——
❝ There is a bruise on your face, ❞ he finds himself saying, just too loudly, gaze narrowing on the aforementioned discoloration that had been distracting him since Felix had appeared, ❝ in case you weren’t aware. Haven’t you seen a healer about that? ❞
A great start, obviously.
It’s an instinctive fight or flight — and he KNOWS this. AND he can even ignore the sharp edge — for the most part. Well, he tries. At least it’s something he is normally good at, but it still somehow manages to sting. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Dorian, like almost everyone else of a particular social standing, with a certain magical proclivity and raw talent, would look at him with that same barely concealed contempt. Why wouldn’t he?
“ Ah, Felix.” The voice slices through the chatter and the clink of glasses during a brief pause as the orchestra prepares for the next piece. A voice belonging to a tall, exquisitely dignified man who may even be considered handsome had his expression not conjured the impression that he was permanently disgusted. “ Grandfather. ” Felix immediately straightens up, alert and attentive, resisting the urge to adjust the set of his collar that’s suddenly too tight. “ Your father tells me you are pursuing a scholarship at the University of Orlais. ” The smile is of a man who has perhaps read about the concept in a book somewhere and had to practice in front of a mirror. “ Astonishing! Truly remarkable! ” Felix’ face illuminates. “ Oh, yes! It’s all very —“ “ — You must be so proud. ” The voice turns to ice, a sharpened blade, a venomous hiss. “ The repository of the Alexius legacy... playing with numbers. But I do commend you for still thinking that you somehow have any significance. ” But Felix doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t wither or diminish as he is expected to. His features harden and his eyes, eyes that are warm and expressive and so much like Livia’s in their intensity, turn calculating and distant. He follows his grandfathers gaze to a group of young enchanters, coveted talent for an apprenticeship under the right Magister. “ It is only a relief to know your father has options. Do enjoy the rest of the evening. ” Felix knows better to say anything as he watches him turn to reach for a campaign flute from a passing servant before disappearing into crowd as the music starts to play again.
But Dorian mentions the bruise and Felix glances at him, genuinely perplexed, trying to decipher his expression, which even NOW is inscrutable —too many layers, too many walls — so he decides to interpret it as little more than an impulsive observation. “ No, why? Are you offering? ” He says this with a laugh. It’s a pleasant sound, boyish and irreverent. This is also something he is good at. “ It’s alright. Nothing a little ice can’t cure. ” He shrugs dismissively and doesn’t elaborate. The smile falters, “ I’m fine. ” Normally he would conjure a story. A reflexive lie simply because he doesn’t want to be any trouble. He’d blame it on carelessness because it’s conveniently plausible; he is adventurous and energetic, why not add clumsiness to the mix as well? His mother often looked at him silently unconvinced but never pressed the matter further. And as always, any use of magic would be abruptly ( stubbornly ) brushed off. One of Livia’s apprentices happens to be a capable healer so naturally he had avoided him at all costs. He will heal on his own.
“ At any rate, my father — and I sincerely apologize on his behalf — is hardly prone to bringing guests home at this hour. ” He quickly shifts the subject back towards one of a more pressing nature ( perhaps sounding a little more caustic than he intends with his own patience waning ) and wonders — and not for the first time since he had first approached — if he should simply let Dorian be on his way. Who is he to stop him? What did I do to deserve to be snapped at? He RILES because he knows the answer. Still, I didn’t ask for this... ...and neither did Dorian, he reminds himself. What — or who — is he so afraid of? The sigh is subtle, an exhaled breath, and the IRRITATION fades in deference to practicality as he decides to throw aside any further attempts at conventional etiquette. “ And you are in no condition to travel anywhere at the moment, Dorian. You look shaken and very pale, ” he adds gently. “ BUT you’re right, there’s absolutely no need to trouble the servants. ” He pushed open the doors. Clear glass windows cover the entire eastern wall and overhead a skylight displays an impossible array of stars over a room that is comfortable, carelessly lavish and very well lived in. Aside from a ridiculous number of exotic plants, books and scrolls and various other bits of stationary are strewn ( not quite haphazardly ) on almost every available surface as if someone were in the middle of academic warfare which the culprit would have to clear up before his mother returns home. Felix tosses the cloak aside as he moves his cello off a couch, indicating for Dorian to sit if he wishes before heading to an ornate drinks cart and pouring him a chilled glass of water. “ Here. ”
A thoughtful silence settles before he adds, “ Dorian... what ha—.... Where did my father find you? ”
( Dorian of House Pavus )
The carriage lurches beneath him and his throat is dry and his mouth parched and he stares out of the window of the door and wonders ——
Well, there isn’t much to wonder about, is there? One moment he had been laid out beneath Sorrel, on top of the world inasmuch as he was deep in the gutter and his mind was in a whole other place and his mouth was parted and it was yet another unbecoming and he opened himself to unravel. Becoming again had been startling. As if he had been shoved back into open air after submerging himself in water for a time and he found himself gasping at the call of his name and there was a face that he recognized only in the vaguest sense.
How he had gotten from Sorrel’s mouth pressed hot against his jaw, parted around a low laugh, to Gereon of house Alexius’s carriage, he has no idea. How they had gotten from point A to point B —— well, he had certainly talked. Plenty, as drunkenness started to wane. About anything and everything : the Imperium and beyond and magic and theory and magic some more and nothing and —— He was dressed in the clothes that he had fled the Order of Argent in with Alexius’s cloak draped, unnecessarily, over him.
Nonetheless, the carriage is slowing and Dorian knows, in that sluggish way that breaking the surface of drunkenness brings about, that this is the Alexius residence. They had came through gates to the mass front doors and balls of lights are lining the path, beautiful and magical.
❝ ——— If you’re trying to return me to my father, you’ll find yourself sorely disappointed, ❞ he turns to Alexius, expression cool and composed. He felt that it was, anyways.
❝ Come, Dorian, ❞ as if that were an answer to an unspoken question and the door beside him opens and he turns to see a servant swinging it open whilst bowing to him, respectfully. He looks back again and Alexius has already departed from the other side and Dorian swallows a sigh and makes his way out and across the pathway, half a step behind Alexius, and walking perfectly steadily, thank you very much.
The interior of the Alexius household is opulent and beautiful the way that all Altus homes tend to be and Dorian looks around the entrance hall, not even bothering to hide his curiosity. Footsteps click against the shimmering floors as Alexius makes his way to the grand stairs, though Dorian remains near the door : ready to run / flee / hide at a moment’s notice. He would not return to the Order of Argent. He would not return to his father. He could not ——
( he is a disappointment and a failure and a fall / but he is tired and worn and there is a burning in his body that riots against his skin and bones and it wears at his heart / he cannot be what he isn’t he cannot stand to wallow in this brokenness and sorrow and unhappiness / he cannot be his father’s son he cannot be his mother’s son he cannot be their perfect son, HE IS FALLEN FROM GRACE : A MISTAKE )
Movement catches his eye and he looks to it, immediately, and —— does he recognize him? Yes, the way that he recognizes most of his peers. From the distance that he holds himself at : the pariah. A name swims to the surface of his thoughts : Felix. And words accompany it : weak / magic / no magic / a waste of magic / nothing.
❝ We have a guest, Felix, ❞ Alexius passes his son as he says the words and Dorian thinks that he squeezes his shoulder, briefly, ❝ Entertain him for a time, would you? I’ll be a moment, ❞ and then he’s gone.
Dorian watches as Alexius disappears and listens to his footfalls fair and his gaze shifts back to Felix and his instinct begs him to run. ❝ I’ll just see myself out, then. I’d hardly want to overstay my welcome. Give my thanks to your father for me, would you? ❞ Voice strong / melodious / noncommittal as he takes the borrowed cloak off / while his heart races / panic rises / his parents cannot know where he is. God, what a mess he must appear to be.
@tevinterson // wow i hate myself
.....fractals... derived from frāctus meaning "broken" or "fractured", and used to extend the concept of theoretical fractional dimensions to geometric patterns in nature... He then flips the book the right way up to study the intricate patters and spirals spilling over the page like ink in water. Chaotic and infinite. The book snaps shut and he lets it falls to his chest. He should be working on that paper on Archon Thalsian — and it wasn’t that he couldn’t come up with the three thousand words complete with citations and foot notes, he just found the topic so incredibly dull. It was also his punishment for submitting a detailed sketch depicting a combination of various representations of Razikale instead of the thousand words he had been expected to produce on the glorious history of the Minrathous Circle. A pointed assignment, no doubt. Perhaps he will simply draw a giant hooded Asp this time... With legs hooked over the back of the couch he peers around the dizzily inverted room towards the door at the sound of his fathers carriage out front. Setting the book aside, he twists and slides off the couch to his feet, hastily straightening his shirt and combing his fingers absently through his hair. He catches his reflection in the large wall mirror and touches the the patch of grazed skin just below his eye and the beginnings of a bruise : an unavoidable altercation from earlier that day during a casual trip to the market in Three Imperators’ Square — of all places. Just a friendly shove as a subtle reminder from a group young enchanters who would have been his peers had he their talent for magic and malice. He hadn’t been near the Circle in almost four years now but they still never pass up an opportunity to corner him in a desperate need to feel superior. He pities them for it. Almost. It’s juvenile really and nowhere near the worst of such encounters : at least they hadn’t used magic this time. And as always he had picked himself up off the stone paving to brush off the gravel and dirt and pretends he doesn’t envy them just a little. And as always he tries to ignore that ache, that hollowing out, that emptiness and the inevitable shame that spills in to fill the space; unbidden, unwelcome.
Can you miss what you never had? And as always he will rationalize it, being rather good at partitioning, cordoning of, detaching and focusing his full attention on more important things outside himself. He turns abruptly away from his reflection and ventures out to the entrance hall to be immediately greeted by his father.
“ We have a guest, Felix, ” His father seems preoccupied but pleased. A paternal hand reaches for his shoulder, riveting him to the spot and immediately he understands why. He has found his apprentice. His father squeezes his shoulder as if reading his thoughts. “ Entertain him for a time, would you? I’ll be a moment. ” Felix nods obediently, but his stomach turns to lead. He opens his mouth to speak but his father is already walking away, his staccato footsteps echoing across the hall.
Felix turns to the visitor. The young man is not much older him and his fine clothes, though creased and disheveled, speak of wealth and refinement. Of course. They had attended the same end of season gala the year before. Dorian of House Pavus — a name he knows by reputation alone : a promising student, a talented mage, a prodigy from Ventus who seemed to trail controversy in his wake. Back then he was something else: dazzling, blinding, like looking too long into the sun. You could only ever make out the shape of him : all angles and sharp edges. Remote and unreachable. He walks over to him and thinks of infinite fractals spiraling into chaos. Greeted by a faint whiff of expensive alcohol mixed with perfumes and incense, Felix politely takes the coat and slings it over his arm. “ Oh, certainly, but there’s no need to worry about that... um... ” He hesitates. He’d never expected to find him so desolate, so frightened, so completely alone. “ Please... you look... at least rest up a bit first and let me send for refreshments. Whatever you’d like. ” The smile is shy as he places a hand on his shoulder to guide him to the Summer Room beyond two massive doors just off the side of the entrance hall. “ This way. Oh, and... I’m Felix. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dorian. ”