NIGHT / 晚上

NUWA LIAN of PERRELOR KEEP CHAE HANEUL of GREENSPIRE ORION TETHALUNE of KAL'THERA

[wanshangs]

WANSHANGS 晚上 / night | above —- my casement veils glowing pools of moonbeams , perhaps on the ground is simply frost it seems ; lifting my head i gaze up at the gleaming moon , bowing my head i ponder my homesick dreams .

i. nuwa lian, braxigar. liege of perrelor keep, thirty, he/them. -— intro. visage. threads. board. ii. chae haneul, morkhul. liege of greenspire, thirty-six, they/them. -— intro. visage. threads. board. ii. orion tethalune, vallarion. liege of kal'thera coven, twenty-six, they/him. -— intro. visage. threads. board.

[wanshangs]

location : nuwa chambers ⏲ the forgotten  world from : nuwa lian , liege of greenspire to : nuwa sheng , lord of perrelor keep [ @decthless ]

while the seeds of suspicion were planted long before their arrival in elaris keep, the news that followed only made it grow faster. the uneasy feeling in the youngest nuwa grew, taking more and more place within his lungs, threatening to break through his ribs. before hearing about the death of the ruling lady, before knowing the name that had been on the list, there was much to be happy about, it was easy to ignore the nagging feeling. for once in what felt like decades, their relationship had felt lighter, in the wake of their spar and matching bruises that ached, yet left them laughing as if they were young again. then, the glee of being able to leave braxigar had come, and made any speculations unimportant. but now, as the young nuwa paces around in their room, waiting for the elder to come out, he is left with a feeling he cannot begin to describe. within his grasp, there are pieces of a puzzle that do not fit one another. whispers that were barely heard, sheng ushering people out of rooms, something happening at the corner of lian's eyes, yet never fully visible. by all rational capacities, it's paranoia. another manifestation of his fear of being left out- of being abandoned, this time in knowledge, not in presence. he could very well ignore this, add it to his list of shortcomings, yet he is nothing if not impulsive, and it only tends to get worse when his emotions run amok. once the other is within grasp, lian walks quickly up to him, expression serious, hiding the distress underneath. "sheng." lian starts, and the words threaten to burst out of him, after having been ricocheting inside his skull for too long - at least by his own standards. "i need to talk to you." a pause to take a deep breath. "back in vallarion, do you remember you told me to come to you when i feel if something is amiss? if anything feels wrong?" another step forward, crimson hues meeting those that should be familiar. lian doesn't know if they are. "i think something's wrong." the pin drops. "and you are keeping it from me."

[wcnderingsovls]

setting: an inn in the town nearby elaris keep featuring: lorencio almara & open ( 2 / 3 )

their lives, it seemed, were no more than a joke to the council. they did not care who lived or died, so long as the seat of crownwearer did not grow cold for long. in fact, all pretense had fallen and no longer did they need to decide as a hollow who best represented them to choose amongst. no -- step right up, lords and ladies, for you too could die a meaningless death at the hands of a group of outdated velkynar who cared not for what who sat upon the throne, but rather what the person sitting on the throne could do for them.

and to bring them all to heliophra, no less. it was cause for celebration.

"a round on me for everyone!" lorencio shouted to the barkeep. the inn was more lively than usual with everyone who had come in from other hollows. it was a nicer establishment than the ones he himself liked to frequent in crowreach, but it was no matter. ale was ale. he held his half-drunken goblet high in the air as he offered a toast to anyone who would listen, for those in the running for crownwearer. "to those who will soon depart us!" as in — depart from the land of the living.

well, he never claimed to be a good with speeches.

with that said, he downed the other half skillfully, a sign of a man who had endured and even enjoyed spirits much stronger than these. he slammed it down against the wooden bar, and the barkeep made quick work of refilling his refreshment. lorencio turned his head and caught the gaze of someone who had been an onlooker of what some called his theatrics. he grinned lazily as he spoke, "are you here celebrating as well?"

[wanshangs]

the inn is a much more familiar and comforting place for the young nuwa, much more so than the elaris keep, where everyone seems to be on edge and weighing one another. it isn't as if lian doesn't know why — the times are terrible, to say the least, and with everything changing at the blink of an eye, apprehension spreads like a disease. there is a part of him, however, that is happy to be away from home, anywhere else but home, without the vigilant and overbearing gaze of his parents, without the pressure of who he needs to be. it is only the news of the dead that hinders him from having more light of a heart, mixing in with some guilt that it is lighter than it has been for a while. when the loud voice booms through the crowd, followed by cheers, lian tries to let the good spirits wash over him as well. he can afford to let go a bit — right? at the very least, he knows he needs to, as there might not be many other opportunities to come for a while. he raises his glass with the rest of the clientele, only faltering a little at the speech. it's daunting, a contradiction to the cheer that has accompanied it. with a quick shrug, they take a long sip of their drink, though unable to look away from the lord. "thanks for the drink." he lets out, and raises his glass in a cheer, before taking another long sip. "i don't know if celebrating is the right word —" there is little to be celebrated, his guilt reminds him, and he tries to drown it again with another drink. "trying to get away, i suppose?" in many ways, more than what he would be able to speak into words. "inns are always a good place to let go of things, although sometimes momentarily." the crowd around them is proof of that, able to have joy when there is so much sorrow near them. "what about yourself? what are you celebrating?"

[wanshangs]

location : balcony , elaris keep ⏲ the forgotten  world from : nuwa lian , liege of perrelor keep to : open starter ! [ 𝟎 / 𝟐 ]

it's an odd hour for people to be awake, let alone go sightseeing through the house of elaris keep. perhaps that guess is the mere reason why lian feels confident in his plan that he wouldn't be caught in this particular endeavor. lying across the floor in a wide balcony, overlooking the city, and most importantly, the sky. he has in his hand the neck of a bottle, and takes a swig occasionally. earlier today, the young nuwa didn't even attempt to sleep, knowing it wouldn't come easily, not after what they learned, not with what's to come. his trust in this nonsensical belief makes him feel comfortable as he lies on the cold ground, so at ease that the sound of footsteps reaches his ears later than it should, startling him to sit up. akin to a deer caught in the forest, he turns his attention on the newcomer, expression morphing into something sheepish. "hey — didn't think this would be a popular attraction." lian muses, and knows it too late to hide the bottle in his grasp. "i can share if you don't mind... sharing." he holds it up in the air, and shakes it a little. "i don't know if we are allowed to bring drinks here, but i don't think anyone will care."

[wanshangs]

location : chae chambers ⏲ the forgotten  world from : chae haneul , liege of greenspire to : chae baeksa , lord of greenspire [ @decthless ]

dark robes hang across wide shoulders, draping across the sofa, ends of the fabric reaching the floor. haneul sits near one of the arms, legs crossed over one another; a book lies across their lap, a hand idly playing with the corner of a page. their attention is not fully there, yet there is somewhat of an attempt to take in the information at their fingertips. another book about heliophra and its nature, something they know they should know more about, but there are many thoughts that cloud their mind to focus. one particular thought stands at the center of it, one shaped in the form of their young brother, and they wait until the younger is done preparing, settling in, dressing up — before entering the main room. "baeksa." they start, before they look up, words flat, void of any embellishment. their finger on the book pauses its movements, and closes the book shut. only then they look up, eyes dark, searching. there is an answer they await, something they wish would come unprompted. but as it stands, through the long journey that was made and in the month before, not spoken into the space between them. they know it to be foolish to assume it will come now, after all this time, yet they give the younger another opportunity to talk to them, before they do. "now that all hollows have reunited..." a tilt of their head, eyes focused on the younger, taking in their reaction. "anything you wish to talk about?"

[wanshangs]

location : main hall of elaris keep ⏲ the forgotten  world from : chae haneul , liege of greenspire to : ophelia verathorm , lady of moonlake [ @celcstine ]

arriving at heliophra is a busy affair, with many people beginning to mingle once they arrive, whispering from one ear to another, catching up on what has happened, and a very few boisterous laughs. it seems that what little laughter and glee left of velkynar dims as news of the dead reaches their ears, turning excitement into fear and apprehension. as many settle within their rooms, haneul returns to the hall, waiting for a particular royal to finish packing and come to the main hall. once dark eyes find what they have been looking for, perhaps luckily so, they seek time until she is free to speak. after not too long, when there is a gap between the greetings and conversations, they walk through the crowd, to stand next to her. "lady verathorm." a low voice begins, and as they are not away from prying ears, they speak quietly. "i believe congratulations are in order." the slightest tilt of their mouth into a smile, they clear their throat. eyes looking around, they find the environment much too crowded to speak freely. "would you happen to have a quick moment to chat in private?"

[wanshangs]

location : elaris keep gardens ⏲ the forgotten  world from : chae haneul , liege of greenspire to : open starter ! [ 𝟎 / 𝟐 ]

the liege stands underneath one of the golden-hued trees, head raised, looking through the leaves, up into the dark sky. the moonlight shines in shards of light upon a forlorn face, deep in thought. the nature of heliophora is different than morkhul's, which is as stark as day and night. the peaceful maroon colors that shine across the trees, the comfort of knowing the beings within — is replaced by a brightness that's unfamiliar, unwelcome to the liege. their arrival had come with similar news, of another death, and yet another unknown. when the sounds of footsteps are heard nearby, they do not turn around to look. not for another moment, as if the secret to their world is hidden between these branches and they could reach it if they tried. a hum leaves their throat, voice hard and rough against the gentleness of the world around them. "are you also here to admire the scenery?" they speak, before taking a step back, to turn to the other. "it seems there is a lot more for it to unravel. yet it doesn't seem like it ever will." a hand reaches out to touch one of the fruits that hang low, not mature enough to be picked. "is it different from where you hail from?"

[wanshangs]

location : tethalune chambers ⏲ the forgotten world from : orion tethalune , liege of kal'thera coven to : lathander tethalune , lord of kal'thera coven [ @celcstine ]

the welcoming at elaris keep is as well organized as it comes, preparations clearly having been made for some time to accept houses from all five hollows. orion tries to ignore the bone-deep exhaustion and greets their hosts properly with a hint of warmth that's hard to muster, and makes their way to the tethalune chambers. some of their bags are already in their rooms, and the urge to just lie down on the bed is difficult to fight. they walk through the main room and lounge over one of the large sofas, a hand going up to pinch the bridge of their nose. there is a lot to do, and so much that's unclear. the sounds of footsteps reach their ears, and it doesn't take a detective to know who it is without needing to look up. when the eldest tethalune walks into the room, orion looks up. a second of silence passes between them before they speak, words carefully chosen at first. "it seems chaos has struck already, hasn't it?" news of the dead coming as soon as they arrived, another royal murdered, with no answers about the perpetrators. it's jarring, although there is a bitterness inside orion that comes from grief of their lost home, that it's yesterday's news already. "garramoth's were next on the list. after us, i suppose." their facade begins to crack; in a way that it tends to falter around their brother, something raw and uncomfortable between them. "i would say please be careful, but i assume you won't listen?"

[wanshangs]

location : arriving at heliophra ⏲ the forgotten world from : orion tethalune , liege of kal'thera coven to : seraphyna tethalune , lady of kal'thera coven [ @prophcsy ]

the hues of the trees around them carry unfamiliar golden light, void of orange and reds back home. the scenery feels out-of-body in some ways, heart wary with some of what awaits them, and more with the grief of what happened before. every terrible thing that happened in the reunion last month might have been a distant memory to some, but not to the tethalunes. even many nights after, orion finds it impossible to forget the smell of burning wood, the flashes of embers flying into the night. what they will never get back. it takes them considerable effort to pull their gaze away from the scenery outside their carriage and look back at their sister. there are some things that continue to eat away at the corner of their mind, something more present than the loss they have all gone through. what some might call gossip, but orion would vehemently disagree. after all, when their sister's happiness and safety are concerned, orion would not let anything get in the way. they start with clearing their throat, in a telltale manner that will surely give her some clue they are going to say something naughty. "nana-" their voice is gentler than it is with anyone else, and the nickname is uttered in private with no foreign ears to hear. "i will ask you something, and i would like you to be honest with me."

[wanshangs]

name : orion tethalune / nickname : ori , rion / faceclaim : guy remmers / age : twenty - six / hollow : vallarion / gender : non binary ( he / them ) / orientation : panromantic demisexual / title : liege of kal'thera coven / moral alignment : lawful good / positive traits : ambitious , compassionate , attentive / negative traits : rigid , obstinate , proud / inspiration : knees aching from being pressed against the cold ground, hands clasped in a prayer, moonlight shining from between the trees, illuminating a path you wish to believe, embers flying into the night, destroying what you thought was once untouchable.

BIOGRAPHY

you lie down underneath the large oak. through his branches, moonlight shines on your face. the leaves play tricks of light through white boughs. you can swear you feel the pulse of life underneath your palms, echoing through the soil. the power this place holds, the ties it has to something much more powerful, something you can only yearn to reach. born as the youngest of tethalunes, you are neither the heir, nor the gifted. no carpet of destiny lies under your feet, yet you kneel down on it to pray from the moment you know who you are. the holy ground of your land, the white oak; it fascinates you, you are proud to be of that bloodline, the ones that protect the scroll, who hold sacred knowledge. you spend time with priests and priestesses to learn more about your heritage, and strive to make your family proud. looking up to your sister, you try to follow her footsteps. it's more complicated with your brother as he takes everything much less... seriously. you stand rigid and uncompromised, wanting to do good by tethalune name, while you have doubts whether he thinks the same. maybe you are also too much like him, and that's why you clash. you don't know. you don't like to delve too deep into it. what you know and keep hidden is that at the end of the day, when you put your head on the pillow, you know it is easier to live without the burden of responsibility. there is a hole it leaves in its wake, and you fill it with respect and honour for the kal'thera coven, making it your duty. looking back now, you realize there are things you have taken for granted your entire life. the branches that shone under the moonlight, the welcoming halls of your home. the great tree that you spent most of your life around, worshipping with priestesses who told you their teachings with warmth. it's gone, all gone, in the blink of an eye. a fated night. you only remember bits and pieces: the embers flying into the sky, the screams echoing through nothingness, tear tracks down soot-covered cheeks. your sister's trembling hands around a scroll — unraveling yet another painful secret unsolved. it fills you with anger unlike before, to be displaced in this way, for your home to be destroyed so carelessly, slipping between your fingers with no way for you to stop. the fire that spread that night, starts to spread through your mind. if you were hellbent on making your house more powerful before, now it's tenfold. the grief and anger is funneled into trying to get more power in this tumultous world, to try to get some revenge for what has been done to you and your family.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

- a ride or die? someone who gets Him and doesnt mind his ambitious side. it could go both ways!! - childhood friends / enemies, would need to be from vallarion - political alliances !!!! - people he tries to get more info from - friends? enemies? he can be very driven - anything and everything! im much better at brainstorming i swear

[ohmovie]

Guy Remmers as Theo, Duke of Tintagel The Buccaneers (2023–)│2.04 "Ice Cream"

[decthless]

He is skeptical—but for the sake of Lian's pride, his mouth opens and then shuts again; he wills himself to be silent and bite his tongue, for once. The creeping urge to bark that he knows better, and he should be more careful tingles on his tongue, but he owed him this much, didn't he? After everything. All those sleepless nights at his side, refusing to let him succumb into despair as darkness threatened to swallow him whole. He could not see his brothers face, but he could feel his warmth, sense his touch. He could still feel his face from when his eyes first opened in darkness and his hands reached forward unbidden, and the relief that had flooded him to know he was not lost, not gone; that his weakness had not cost him everything, after all.

"Alright," he settles for that instead—curt, simple, a vast understatement of what he really feels, but his face gives little away; he tries not to glance at the injury, the crippling guilt over his own failure completely undo him before his young brother, the last person he wished would peek into the wreckage behind the steely veneer of his posture and see him for what he really was—desperate, remorseful, and so deeply ashamed. How could he let it come to this? Again and again he had failed him, and again and again he continues to fail him—it seems as though no matter how hard he tries, his very existence had turned to an affliction. Was it selfish, then, to still want him, still need him in his life?

The wooden dummy wobbles, a poor replacement for a sparing match, and his effort to make ameds he nods solemnly, always so guarded, afraid his brother would see right through him as he used to before their years above solidified the distance between them, and made them forget how to be gentle towards each other.

"I know." Sheng reassures, his voice succinct, but almost gentle where his face as if smooths out the crease on his brow like wrinkles in an old garment, the cold indifference of usual settling—with just a hint of warmth lingering underneath. He would not be here, if it were not for him. It's not a lack of belief in Lian's abilities that had him shielding him from combat—it was love, and fear, both battling in the back of his head constantly and without end. But perhaps he had been unfair to him in doing so. He raises his arm, his sword, long sleeves rustling against the breeze as he positions his feet like a challenge and transforms before his very eyes into this graceful, deadly thing; the steadiness of his grip unyielding, the confidence of his stance a result of hours of relentless training. The blade extends ahead like an extension of his arm as he invites him to step closer, granting him the mercy of the first blow; he would do well to strike hard and not to waste it, for luck did not favor those who went up against him. The light streams from above, the moon like a watchful eye, perched high atop the gloomy skies in anticipation, overseeing the violent waltz of the brothers, its pale light catching on the polished steel of his blade and bouncing back into the crimson of his eyes.

[wanshangs]

chest heaving with a breath not yet taken, lian prepares himself for a debate before even getting close to getting sheng to agree. he expects him to refuse fighting with him, either due to finding the younger weak ( with or without the injury ), or simply not deeming him worth his time. the acceptance comes as too much of a surprise, akin to a rug being swept from underneath his feet, or missing a step while going down the stairs. it makes him falter in his stance, steely mask dropping for a few seconds. the confusion is easy to see as he tilts his head, waiting for the other shoe to drop- which does not come. sheng has agreed to spar with him; after what feels like a lifetime, and for what? will he actually do it? will he finally let that anger go, rather than giving him the cold shoulder? is lian finally worth his time, his attention? after years spent being ignored, have both their injuries broken the balance between them? the younger nuwa does not know what to expect, yet knows not to be hopeful, having been burnt too many times to accept this as an olive branch. and although the older had let himself be cared for back in vallarion, lian is sure it was out of necessity, nothing to do with lian himself. his mouth opens before words fall out, a pause, before they are pursed. opens again. "good." and what else he could say? they are at a stalemate, at the beginning of something about to break. standing upon a lake frosted over, the cracks beginning to spread underneath their feet. lian is much too ready to take the plunge; too strangled by the void, that rather than being stuck here, he is ready to risk the misery, the hell that would follow. "let's go then." a second more passes as he waits, and when it's clear that he is granted the honor of the first move, he is quick on his feet to jump forward, blade swinging in an arch that he knows will be parried. the force of their swords meeting almost happens in a flash of light, the noise sharp enough to make his ears ring. while lian is normally much more tame, agreeable- there is a spark inside him, a mix of anger and hurt, fear and desperation, manifesting in something self-destructive. a desire for some answers, or anything he can grasp, to know something is changed, to convince himself he isn't stuck here again. "what made you change your mind?" the words are spoken louder, desiring to be heard against another clash of their swords, lian rusty on his footwork as he dodges the sword swiping at him, quickly backing up, before striking again. "is it father who put you to this?" that's the only other reason he can imagine sheng would agree to this. as they continue, his strike is parried again, but not met with the vehemence that lian knows sheng posessess. he is holding back, yet again. it infuriates lian, unlike ever before. something between a growl and a scream leaves his mouth, as he pushes forward again, sword about to strike. "fight me like the nuwa you are!"

[celcstine]

braxigar  has  always  been  the  garramoth's  home  .  he's  never  denied  himself  the  love  for  his  crimson  colored  and  dead  land  .  he  knows  that  the  world  has  beauty  in  it  ,  that  the  sands  of  heliophra  ,  the  woods  of  morkhul  or  the  castles  of  vallarion  holds  astonishment  .  yet  ,  this  is  what  he  founds  beautiful  ,  this  is  the  place  he'd  rather  spend  his  years  .  most  dislike  braxigar  ,  but  he  doesn't  .  the  world  does  not  understand  what  is  before  them  ,  perhaps  not  before  it's  lost  .  the  youngest  nuwa  has  taken  courage  to  himself  ,  walking  up  to  him  as  if  he's  not  the  ruling  lord  of  the  vassal  house  .  however  ,  he  does  not  mind  the  light  talk  as  much  as  he  once  would've  ,  after  all  ,  the  world  is  changing  .  "  i'd  be  a  fool  if  i  told  you  .  "  he  replies  and  gives  a  smile  which  doesn't  meet  his  onyx  orbs  .  he'd  never  tell  a  nuwa  would  he  ,  what  he'd  use  his  time  on  .  especially  not  the  truth  .

the  world  was  changing  and  no  matter  how  much  he  wished  for  the  council  to  fall  ,  he  needed  something  to  be  able  to  do  so  .  the  hints  and  whispers  had  began  to  give  answers  ,  but  until  everything  was  secure  -  he'd  play  the  slow  game  .  "  what  about  you  lord  nuwa  ?  what  will  home  give  you  ?  "  he'd  indulge  ,  if  only  for  a  short  amount  of  time  .

[wanshangs]

while lian was not expecting an honest response, he had assumed the small talk would be tolerated. it's his fault to assume that of the ruling lord, and his response prompts an awkward laugh out of him, one hand going to the back of his own neck to rub at his nape. this is as uncomfortable as it gets, and he has dug his own grave, leaving the carriage and approaching the older. "right! of course. of course not- silly of me to ask." his hand swats at the air in front of him, as if he can clear the air of his embarrassment with no success. "me? oh —" the question is turned his way, which should not be a surprise, yet lian is still as unprepared as ever. it's his tendency not to think more than one step ahead, trying to stall for time as he hums in thought. unlike kaelen, perhaps, the younger has no qualms about lying. after all, telling the truth would surely be worse in this instance. lian has no doubts kaelen wouldn't appreciate him talking badly about braxigar, and it wouldn't reflect well on his house. the latter is only secondary, however, which is another reason nuwa elders chastise him daily. "i'll-uh- see my parents. i know they have been worried." the overbearing love of his mother, the stern expectations of his father. neither of it is welcome, but infinitely inevitable. "they have been waiting for our return since the news reached their ears, i'm sure."

[insatiabilitics]

.✦ ݁˖ ⸻ Taemris tried to bite back his contempt for the question; how jaded and disillusioned he had felt since returning home, the inquiry certainly struck an exposed nerve. Darkness clung to ever peak and valley of Braxigar, but a cloud loomed heavily overhead it seemed, many struck with a strange and lachrymose intent no matter how much any could attempt to deny it. Such sentiments were dangerous for a Braxigarian, those who learned to maim or kill before they learned any bit of softness. A scowl paraded itself across Taemris' face, shaking his head as though disappointed at such clear and wretched pantomime the other provoked within their question.

Another of Perrelor Keep, it made sense that such sentimentalities had not yet been stamped out of them, " I balk at your lack of prudence , " his head hung despite his scathing words, guilt of his own empathetic sense worn as if a scarlet letter, " We return to responsibilities that have been in place long before another hollow's house burned . It would be foolish to stumble into the pitfall of feelings when others fail to listen to our reasonings . " It was unfortunate for Lian that Taemris had already been absolved of his own tenderness after speaking to Marya and Lord Kaelen, already scorched by their own flame of disappointment in him.

[wanshangs]

his hand remains wrapped around the tankard, half empty now, fingertips pressing into the cold metal. he does not take the words to heart. at least, not in the way that perhaps it's intended. this is neither the first nor the last time lian is reminded of his lack of caution, of being blunt and not knowing where to say what. it's far from the worst thing he has heard, and in this particular mood he is in, the young nuwa could not care less. a shrug of his shoulders, he takes another long swig of his drink, before gesturing to the bartender to get them a refill. "this is the exact amount of prudence you will get on this table. not a pinch more." it's petulant, fitting the permanent frown upon his features, where often used to be a smile. he cannot bring himself up to high spirits again, not after everything that has happened, not here, of all places, unable to leave. "well- maybe those responsibilities should be reconsidered. maybe some of us are more affected by watching an entire house burn down and then being forced back into our cages." his mouth is looser than it should be, and while he could perhaps blame it on the alcohol, lian knows better that it has no impact. he can hold his drink fairly well, and these are thoughts that are at the tip of his tongue. "you don't seem any happier than i am by this turn of events." the observation is not held to himself, and he leans forward upon his elbows on the table, looking up into taemris' face where his head hangs low. "why pretend otherwise? at least here of all places?"

[wanshangs]

WEBWEAVING, a study in: 女媧莲 / nuwa lian

not  belonging  where  you  are  supposed  to  belong.  the  process  of  your  being  faltered,  stuck  in  eternal  limbo.  an identity  between  four  walls  and  then  another one  outside.  expectations  upon  shoulders  who  wish  not  to  carry  them.  a  rock  and  a  hard  place.  too  much  and  not  enough  love.  a  hand  that  reaches  out  and  a  hand  that  strikes.  neither  of  them  the  hand  you  wish  to  hold.  yearning  for  something  you  fear  you  will  never  get.  to  leave-  to  be  able  to  become  whoever  you  wish  to  be.  to  stay-  to  be  stuck  in  a  cage  where  you  will  never  be  yourself.

[decthless]

That long swan neck turns towards the sound of their voice slowly, pale lids hanging dangerously low over the eternal winter trapped inside his callous eyes. "...So?" The young lord sing-songs in that way he does, so uncaring, syllables coated in apathy as he stretches his hand, observing his nails for the sake of it, subtly combative in its indifference, only softened as those gauzy lashes flutter their way, challenging them to explain who could possibly be more important than him.

Their sharp claws extend their way, feline-like and greedy, curving daintily over the bump of their shoulders; he shamelessly basks in the attention, feeling placated by their indulgence of his whims, made tame under the weight of their endless patience for his whims. "Mhm…" the younger Chae nods faintly, allowing something of a coy smile to settle upon the delicate arch of his lips, mirroring their own. "You know me best." it's always a challenge with him—they follow Haneul's gaze attentively as it shifts towards the vendor, squeezing their shoulder inadvertently as they address them, and letting an impish laugh slip from his tongue. "Haneul… you're no fun, you never let me play with you," he moves his knuckles to drag it against their temple just so, the gesture fond and unguarded, allowing for the moment of genuine to exist. "Thank you, hyung..." he croons bashfully, in that cloying sweet tone that implies docility as his arm already finds a way to entwine with theirs. A pause then, his large blue eyes flicker up at them inquisitively, blinking once, twice. "Don't you want anything for yourself?"

[wanshangs]

the uncaring nature of the younger is neither new nor unwelcome. what haneul responds in kind is a quiet stare, not in chiding, nor exasperation, but something they have perfected through the years. haneul worldlessly saying, you know why so, but i will follow your whims nonetheless. it is rare that they refuse, or there is a reason for them to. the air is not tense as it used to be weeks ago, and there is no pending danger looming over their shoulders. in most ways, this sense of normalcy is welcome, to see baeksa return to his own whims and caprices, unlike the figure once lying in the bed, refusing to get up. that's a sight haneul does not want to see ever again. the exchange with the vendor is quick, as the man boxes up the earrings and ties the box with colorful ribbons. haneul pays for it and takes the bag, doesn't hold it out for baeksa to carry. they will carry it home, with whatever else they will purchase today. at the younger's words and squeeze of their shoulder, a small huff of breath leaves their mouth, in lieu of a laugh, at least haneul's version of it. "you're welcome. i assumed there is little reason to play when one knows the answer already." it seems to be a metaphor of how both siblings take on the world; baeksa who enjoys playing with their prey, and haneul who sees no reason in prolonging the inevitable. the younger then turns his attention on them, and they see the suggestion before it even comes. they are not fond of being dressed or donned, let alone in public. this is something they will tolerate in private only. "i got my book, do not need anything else." with that, they lead both of them out of the jewelry stall. "what about yourself? what's next on your list?"

[springscngs]

there was a certain sweetness in the air as one traversed the marketplace, although cai believed it had little to do with nobility's return to morkhul -- and more with the simple truth that life, for those of common birth, had endured unchanged. whilst innocents were slain within the halls of his ancestral home, and the white oak burned to cinders, merchants had continued to peddle their wares here. lives far simpler than his own had not bent to the whims of aristocracy. he could not deny the allure of such simplicity -- although he would not trade privilege for commonness. cai was not so naive as to believe common lives did not carry burdens of their own. history simply deemed them lesser.

"does it?" he'd adopted a jovial tone, as if the matter were fit for light conversation. in truth, cai was merely testing the waters with liege chae. "i had been under the impression most were quietly chafing against the council's decree. patience has worn thin, has it not? what with assassinations and infernos left unexplained." an innocuous smile. "that said, i do appreciate your blithe spirit, my liege. i find home every bit as sweet as i remember." a quiet laugh, threadbare with fatigue, rather than amusement. his gaze briefly drifted to the book tucked beneath the other's arm. "there is an alley not far from here dotted with… places of enjoyment." a deliberate pause. were they the sort to indulge? well, it would have been unmannerly not to extend the offer, at the very least. "inns and taverns," cai clarified smoothly. "unless you've yet to finish your perusing?"

[wanshangs]

the light tone speaking so openly of one's opinions, of dismay against the council... is unusual. after all, these types of things are often said wrapped in niceties, of faux pretense, and heavily veiled commentary about anything but the actual topic. they respect the honesty, even if they are much too careful to be as blunt about it. the liege tilts their head, barely a twitch of their lips, a minuscule shrug of their shoulders. "there are always contradicting opinions to be found in the affairs of politics. returning home could very well instill a sense of safety amongst its inhabitants." that's as little as they can say without outright expressing their opinion, let alone to one from another house, and even less so in public. "good to know i have made an impression." this is as much jest as they are known to offer, while fully aware of the bite beneath the words. "glad to see you well, lord elarion." a hum, while it wasn't in their plans to go out drinking, it does not seem like a terrible idea. there is little desire to be inebriated, but it is a good opportunity to learn more about what everyone is contemplating after the fire. haneul has been indulging in their desires to stay at home and research more, aware they need to get back to gathering intel any day now. "that is generous of you to offer. i have finished my perusing, indeed." with their arm not holding the book, they gesture towards further down the street. "please do lead the way. i assume you are well-versed in these... places of enjoyment?"