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rpbetter · 3 years

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Hey, can I get some advice on improving my descriptions / becoming more literate? I feel like I'm really dull when it comes to my writing and would like some advice! Thank you!

You absolutely can, thank you for asking! I apologize it took me a bit to get to this, tumblr didn’t show me notifications and I’ve been rather busy. Hopefully, I can offer some good advice!

Please, keep in mind that, as always, it is just my advice. If these things do not work out for you, don’t feel bad about it! You just need to find what does work for you. And, if you have anything that jumps out at you that you wish me to elaborate more on, or even that simply occurs to you more specifically to ask as you read, please, do ask! I am always happy to have those questions, of course.

Being more literate in itself can help. It can also be a hindrance, however, as we tend to compare ourselves to others negatively. I’d say not to do that, but it’s something you have to unlearn, not something you can simply stop doing. We’re taught a lot of self-criticism by comparison in both the educational system and our society. You’ve got learn to approach material you enjoy as just that, something you enjoy, not a standard you need to uphold. All writers should be unique, they’re all individual people! I think the death of a good many unwritten works hinges on that, honestly; the writer couldn’t live up to their own expectations, born of comparison to their literary heroes.

That being said? Read.

Read new and diverse things, and revisit old favorites. Learn as many words as you can in whatever way works best for you; through reading alone, through word of the day apps, or looking up novel words you run across/looking up words as you write to compare them to synonyms. I know, tumblr has gotten really nasty in recent years about writers who seem to have “regurgitated a thesaurus.” There is always a bad way to do something good, there are always excesses when you’re passionate about something. Don’t replace every third word with an exotic one simply because you think it looks better. Do replace words that are, legitimately, better in how they evoke the setting or mood you are going for. Remember that word flow is important, perhaps especially when it comes to descriptions.

If you do not tend to read much material that is description heavy, I’d suggest doing so. Try to find works that are still descriptive, but fit with the genres you like to both read and write the best to get you started, but don’t stay there exclusively. It doesn’t need to be something like...let’s say, Tolkien. Not to piss anyone off, I’m not anti-Tolkien or anything, but I could never get into his works, regardless of interest or effort, because they’re so description heavy, and in ways that don’t pique or hold my interest much. So, if you find that you are not into description laden works, that isn’t a poor reflection on you! It’s more likely that you simply aren’t into those specific works, you need to find something that is more of interest to you, personally.

If you do tend to read many works that are descriptive at all, take up a few of your favorites and pick some passages within them that you enjoyed the most. Ones that you could feel. When they described an outfit, you not only saw it, you saw the way it moved on the character, knew what it would feel like to touch it. When they described a setting in nature, you had a sensory experience there as well; you could smell the hyper-specific scent of wildflowers on a warm breeze, or the electric chill of a sudden summer storm moving in.

Ask yourself what does this for you so that you can experiment with doing it yourself. Is it the words, the word flow? Is it what the author isn’t saying, leaving the reader to automatically fill in with their own sensory recollections? There are so many ways of being descriptive in writing, as many as there are writers, and as many as there are things to be descriptive about.

So, it’s, again, a bit of a situation of finding what naturally pulls you into those descriptions yourself. While there are always good rules that can apply across the board with writing, it is a creative art. If you’re only following the rules others have set down, you can end up feeling negative about the process, yourself, and the product...or your readers/RP partners feel like the work is lacking or boring. Even when people can’t quite put their finger on something, forced work feels forced, unnatural, or lacking substance.

Diversify what you consume.

I know, I just said that thing about the familiar stories! Once you’re better able to identify what it is that stands out as evocative to you, though, you can better feel that in unfamiliar works. You can get a better idea of how language itself works as a living thing. Read some things out of your usual genres, ask for recommendations from friends or family who read, check out some older works, and even follow some blogs that post a variety of poetry quotes or full poems.

Reading song lyrics and a variety of other spoken-word style things like slam poetry and rap is helpful as well. They’re all doing the same here, evoking imagery and emotion. That is what you are trying to do as well! These formats, additionally, use highly evocative words to describe in a shortened way. They are great for realizing unique ways that familiar words can be paired.

By going outside of your usual bounds, you may encounter words, writing styles, and other descriptive qualities you hadn’t considered before. If you don’t, you still end up with a fuller grasp on writing itself. Everything is a potential learning experience if you are willing to approach it that way! Use it to play around with words and styles, Use this as experimentation, and realize that it is perfectly alright for it not to work out. That’s part of the exercise of finding what works for you; realizing what doesn’t work.

When you have some ideas of what makes you experience the things being described, practice. Pick anything. In fact, incredibly mundane, irrelevant things are perfect for this. If you can describe a sock in good detail, in a way that isn’t either inaccurate or boring, giving it relevance and life, you can describe anything.

Use ask memes and writing prompts, and write them out from your character’s perspective.

Even if you are not writing a first person account, it helps you to use narrative language that the muse might use, or that gives the reader a intuitive feeling for the muse. Don’t try to fill the whole thing up with descriptions. Sometimes, just simplifying is a good thing, and will help more relevant details stand out.

For example, I will often use things in the environment around my muse to help pair with, further denote, and give the reader a feeling for the muse’s emotions, psychological state, and so on. If that muse is in a hectic state, I’m not going to describe something in the environment that isn’t, like a peaceful meadow. I’m going to describe the seeming chaos of some ants in the grass taking apart their food, the erratic seeds or spores on the wind, or the clatter of an old farm truck on the roadway that breaks up the peace of the surroundings.

It’s a very different effect than describing the entire meadow in high detail, in ways that are perceptible to my muse and not, down to a blade of grass or a rock. It then takes over too much of my reader’s imaginative process and agency without giving them anything of nonnegotiable importance about the scene or the muse. Details that reflect a state of internal distress, like the ants, seeds, or truck, then fall by the wayside of this massive scene-setting I’ve done. And, as unfortunate as it is, if you are writing RP especially, your audience is looking for details that are pertinent and impactful. They’re likely to, intentionally or otherwise, skip several paragraphs of descriptions no matter how beautiful they are.

Since you just said “descriptions” and “writing” {nothing wrong with that, I just want to be sure I’m covering as much as possible that might be of help to you}, I’m not sure if you are meaning external descriptions or more internalized, character-driven ones, and not sure if you are writing only RP, only traditional writing, or a combination thereof.

As I said above, using descriptions that reflect things about the muse is useful and interesting, regardless of how or what you are writing. So, even if you were not meaning internalized descriptions, doing the things I’m about to talk about relating to this will still be helpful!

Internalized descriptions include things like: mood, thoughts, memories, and sensory perception.

To do these things any justice, you have to really know your muse, be able to experience things from their unique perspective and not just your own - or just what you wish the reader to experience through them.

If you didn’t have inspiration for the muse, you wouldn’t be writing them, but inspiration isn’t the same as knowing them as well, maybe better, than yourself. To do that, it is a process of learning and experimentation...and practice.

Those memes I mentioned above? Those are useful here, too! It doesn’t matter if it isn’t an ask meme you want to reblog, or if no one sent you anything from it; you can find a variety of memes, save them, and ask yourself the questions.

On sentence memes, or “starter memes,” ask yourself what your muse’s internal reaction to having that sentence said to them would be, how it might externalize (or not), and if these things are true, or just your perception/what you would like to have happen. If you’ve developed this muse from scratch or spent time learning them from canon, you should have some pretty good ideas as to how they’ll feel. Expand on that instinctive or learned idea. Does it change if a different muse or character type says this? Say it is an inflammatory sentence, something accusatory, derogatory, or pushy. Do they react the same way if a loved one says it instead of a stranger? How about a person who is obviously intoxicated, or a person who is under the influence of youth, so to speak? Take that, and write out two different scenarios.

On ask, or “headcanon/development memes,” pick a question and answer it yourself. Just answer it in depth. Now, have your muse answer that question. You may notice that the muse didn’t want to answer as clearly, is lying or omitting things, and/or had other thoughts generated by that question. If you didn’t already do it this way, answer the question again as a story in which your muse goes through those thoughts. Describe their emotions using words that carry the same emotional resonance, not all descriptions need to be lengthy if the right words, right word order, are found for optimum impact on the reader. Write out the thoughts they are having, just as messy as they are naturally having them.

Outside of memes, you have yet more options for helpful exercises that get you in touch with your muse and your writing.

Try out photography and inspiration blogs. Pick a some pictures that drew your attention, and write about them descriptively. Write out how the picture makes you feel, what it makes you think about. Practice not just describing how something looks, but how it would feel to be there. Using the same pictures, write as your muse in the same way. Put them in this scene to give their experiences. It helps you get a grasp on putting impressions and experiences down in creative ways that allow others to experience it the same way, and it helps you more easily step into your muse’s mind and experiences.

Seeing things through your muse’s eyes (through the lens of their life experiences, preferences, biases, emotions, and thoughts) is critical in giving authentic descriptions. To do more of this, you can practice in every day life. Even if you cannot write it out, or write it out yet, you can consciously think as your muse. If your muse was watching this TV show or hearing this song, what would they think? Don’t just answer as, “they would/n’t like it.” Answer as to why they would or would not, what it makes them feel and think. You can continue doing this with your muse’s impressions of different environments and people.

You can even simply contemplate an emotion and how your muse feels and expresses it.

Adding on underlying and overarching emotions to the mix as you go along; emotion, and thought, is complex. We very rarely are only angry, sad, or happy. We are very rarely only thinking of a single thing, and even rarer, thinking of it out of nowhere. It’ll help you identify the way your muse experiences emotion and thought, as well as how best to describe these things.

For example, I write a muse that can easily present as simply being quiet and angry. Additionally, as the character develops, his actions and general behavior can seem to not match well with his overall, genuinely kind nature. It’s necessary for me as a writer to identify where the anger comes from, what its components are; it isn’t just anger. It’s built on the things anger so often is; frustration, sadness, and fear. It gives the reader insight and helps delineate the muse’s expression of “anger.” When the anger is coming more from a place of insulation and protection than it is frustration, it presents differently.

I describe the sensation of the most obvious emotion, the anger, but also the underlying states that have led to it being apparent. How it really feels to be a wounded animal in a corner. I describe an experience or two pertaining to the emotional pain and fear, keep it relevant throughout the text in callbacks (what set him off is related to those experiences in some way, and during or after the experience of anger, those other situations are referenced again). Maybe it is an outright flashback, maybe it is less thematically stated. The descriptions I use, again, of his surroundings-not just his expressions, tone of voice, or movements-denotes that he is in this particular state of mind. He might notice similarities in the environment relating to a previous bad experience, since he is in that mindset, or he might be noticing things in a more critical way than he normally would. Things he might see every day are being processed as hateful in some way; garish or otherwise visually displeasing, might be seen as outright harmful, or even menacing. Bold colors, sharp lines, stand out. Things come into high relief and are painted in large swaths of color, the minute details missing suddenly.

Further, you can think of things that make your own similar state of mind so much worse in these situations. Is there a repetitive sound in the background? Is the person he is speaking with seemingly blowing him off in some way? Is he hungry, tired, thirsty, in physical pain? I then write those things throughout as additional, building irritants.

Using your personal experiences isn’t a bad thing, I really wish tumblr hadn’t gotten into that mindset. Unless you really have written a 100% self-insert character, they shouldn’t experience things exactly as you do, no. However, you have a basis to go off of already when you are describing their inner life; your own.

Maybe you have never been so wracked with grief that you collapsed, but you have been caught up in a significant loss of some sort that you can build upon. If you can better imagine what your muse’s experience is, you can describe it not only better, but also in a way that reads as legitimate. It’s not a description of grief that you could have gotten from anywhere else, doesn’t have cliché lines in it about grief, such as, “though he was drowning in an ocean of loss, he knew he had to be strong for his friends, so, he put on a brave face.” (There are other issues with that, but that’s a whole other post!)

My point is, you have the tools of accurate inner life within you, and you should use them to build that accuracy in your writing. Again, play with the words and structure, make sure you are building the feelings or otherwise being immersive about them. Keep them throughout the thread, do not have a muse magically become the opposite of what you’ve described because it is no longer convenient, and do not forgo little reminders that the muse feels the way they do, no matter what their actions might be saying.

When you describe your muse’s actions that are being influenced by an emotion, good or bad, use words that evoke the emotion while describing those actions.

If the muse is very sad, do not use words that bring to mind vivacity and passion. Don’t use metaphors that bring to mind those same things. Your muse doesn’t slink like a jungle cat to the table when depressed, but they might move in a daze, like a shadow, or a have to put maximum effort into their every step as though heading to their own execution.

I don’t think anyone should describe, let alone to an extreme, every action their muse undertakes, but when you are imparting these things with emotional tone or thought processes, it really shouldn’t be done. It’s exhausting for you to write, and just as exhausting for your reader, who is very likely going, okay, we get it, she’s angry. Like the descriptions of the surroundings, try to keep it to important and telling actions. You needn’t describe your muse’s every eye movement, but if they are so embarrassed they’re having trouble keeping eye contact, or so annoyed they glare, that is a description you want to add.

Writers never seem to forget facial expressions or dramatic body movements, which is reasonable, considering how visual a species humans are, but quite often forgo tone of voice and word pronunciation entirely. These are great ways to denote what your muse is feeling. Consider how your muse speaks most often, whether they work at proper pronunciation and hiding an accent, or if they simply let their most natural speech flow. Then, consider how different emotions might impact that. I’m not talking about the only go-to many muns on tumblr have, the “my muse speaks -first language here- when angry” thing. I’m talking about your muse entering into any emotion strongly enough to drop crisp pronunciation, outright mess up familiar and easy words, stumble, stutter, or pause. Write emotion into your muse’s speech, and don’t keep it to adding things like, “said angrily.”

That’s telling, not showing, and is the death of descriptive writing of any sort.

Doing any of the above in a document is highly recommended. Not only are you less likely to encounter tumblr eating your drafts as you work on them, you have more freedom to open it up later and play around with the structure. Additionally, writing directly on the platform can be distracting in more ways than just the desire to dash scroll! It can make you feel like you need to be doing what you owe instead, need to be responding to messages, posted memes, comments. Taking it off site feels more like your own space and time for experimentation.

I know this was long, and covered many points (though, it could always use more). So, I’m going to kind of rehash some below!

For learning and inspiration:

read things both familiar and not in order to figure out what sort of descriptions speak to you, then practice doing them yourself

read a variety of works, not just books, and not just new books; oftentimes, the lessons in older books will stand out to you even more for using descriptions that are no longer common. Those lessons still hold, like the very act of using common, highly recognizable objects and settings to describe a person, place, or thing. In those cases, see what you can rewrite that would give the same feeling using things that are currently so recognizable

don’t count out things like music and poetry, they flow with emotion and it is imperative that they give emotion and setting in unique ways

use ask/starter memes, pictures, and even common situations occurring around you to experiment with both writing descriptions and getting into your muse’s mindset

think on your own experiences with your environment and emotions

consider how your muse’s perceptions may change based upon thoughts and emotions, and/or how you can describe the setting to reflect and drive home these factors

really get to know your muse by exploring headcanon memes, giving yourself a refresher on their canon (yes, even if you wrote it), and comparing and contrasting your experiences with your muse’s on the same topics

experiment with new words, their use, and their flow

seriously, practice! Outside of writing you intend for anyone else to ever see!

Things to Remember:

you are unique as a person, therefore, you are unique as a writer...and that is a good thing, you just need to find what works for you

describe things that are important in setting the scene in ways that are not just visual; be emotive, and pick things that have bearing on the immediate topic

don’t forget that your muse’s voice and spoken words use can, and should be, impacted by thoughts and feelings

just like you, your muse is unlikely to see the same objects in the same light under any manner of strong emotional influence

also just like you, who is saying something and in what context is extremely important in how your muse reacts internally and how that is presented externally; if your muse feels and reacts the same way no matter the other party, they’re a little cardboard and you’re not being descriptive or thoughtful enough

listen, if you just really need to describe something utterly irrelevant to live another second? That’s fine, but you need to make it relevant. Perhaps, your muse noticed the cracks on that rock because they’re in an altered state - be that by way of a substance, or an emotion

there is a reason why we use clichés, and I am not going to say they should never be used, just that you should try to be more creative with them, and they should always be viable ones that truly match the mood

the same is true of words, we have some words that are just so commonly expressive of sensations and emotions that they come up quite often, but again, try to find something similar if possible, and always make sure it’s still evoking the right thing

I repeat: get in touch with your muse, even if you do not write them from first person. The language you use as a writer to describe them and their world is better if it feels like them

no support for tumblr’s anti-wordiness, but huge support for optimizing word use for maximum impact

to that end, if you’re a RPer, even a fic writer, please know that your desire to write descriptively isn’t going to be appreciated by some people. That’s their fucking loss, and you are better off without them. You will find the audience that will properly appreciate what you’re doing!

I hope some of this helped to give you some starting points you might not have thought of!

#rp advice #writing advice #descriptive writing #Anon E. Mous #answered

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fire-mage-719 · 3 years

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I made a little story for FireMage the character in @fazbear-ent-official 's FNAF RP blog, pertaining to the type of stuff I think would fit what I want from their character. It's pretty long so I'll leave it below the cut.

I just sort of sat down and wrote something out in an hour or two, so there's probably a few mistakes or something. Above all I wanted to make it work with what everyone's done with the "universe" so far but also make it work (as someone who likes timelines and stories that makes sense).

I'm going to reblog it with a TLDR, and a sort of explanation as to my thought process and how it can work with everything. Doesn't have to be canon in the RP, but I think it might open up more RP opprotunities/paths or something. IDK, I haven't done this sort of thing before. Anyways enjoy.

William sighed before he left the building. The sound of arcade machines, a distant song, and children echoing in the short distance behind him. Exiting the dark building, he shielded his eyes and squinted as he was suddenly bashed by the intense sunlight.

It was a glorious and sunny day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the blue expanse cradling the unwieldy and bright sun. The building, his establishment, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, blocked out all the lights for bright neon signs and shiny decor and moving party lights. The outside was a stark contrast.

Beyond just the sight was the smell. Inside smelled like pizza and soda, candies with enough sugar content to kill anyone in a nursing home, and a tinge of childly stench. Out here it smelled like fire, smoke, and meat. Not just any meat, but good barbecued hotdogs and hamburgers, a steak maybe, a pork rib, William couldn’t tell anymore, really. It was just savory and honestly, a very good palate cleanser to the rubbish that they sold inside.

Manning the grill was a tall figure. They wore an astronaut suit, pale white, with no flags or logos. No NASA logo, no indication that they had ever been to space, and in the end, it didn’t particularly matter. No one seemed to really mind, William the least. Especially with the reason that he hired them for. Though they did intently wish for two more additions to their apparel: a Freddy Fazbear branded apron and a nametag that read “FireMage”.

“Fire, I need you to do what I hired you for,” William sighed, his arm still shielding his eyes from the sun. “Not whatever you’ve got setup here.”

“All due respect sir, someone came in with a t-bone and said they’d pay me more than you would in a week to cook it,” The astronaut said.

The astronaut turned away from the grill, pointing the burger flipper at William.

“A week, boss. Like, rich white ladies are nuts, but money is money,” Fire said, turning back to the grill and plating a few burgers. “Besides, you’ve got a lot more business lately, despite all your goings on. I would like to think it’s thanks to me.”

William grimaced as Fire took the last burger off the grill and onto a bun. William’s eyes were focused on the t-bone that the astronaut mentioned until Fire had closed the grill.

“Besides, I take care of whatever you ask no matter what,” Fire said, turning to look at William.

It was slightly concerning, not being able to look them in the eyes. Even with the animatronics, William was able to look into the glassy fake orbs, but the visor to Fire’s helmet blocked anything but William’s own reflection. Used to the light now, William watched his mirror image let his arm down.

“If you can even remember what that initially was for,” Fire continued, leaning against the grill.

William went to open his mouth, but shut it. He couldn’t remember.

“Is it that you can’t remember, or that you haven’t been made to remember yet?” Fire asked.

William snapped, “Don’t do that. Just… go in and do what I asked, yeah?”

William turned for the handle of the door. Fire was arguably one of the easiest of his employees to deal with. Casual, respectable, and above all somehow able to get away with an odd amount of things, Fire was… one of the least suspicious people at any establishment. Whichever establishment that Afton was at, they seemed to be there. No one minded the obviously fake name, the obviously out of the ordinary outfit, and the odd comments that seemed to slip beyond most peoples’ notice.

“Mr. Afton, I have to ask, what’s up with the sudden influx of employees?” Fire retorted.

William paused and looked back, not angry, but a bit annoyed.

“I don’t know. Must have been Henry or Willow. They’re in charge of new employees.”

“Besides me,” Fire chirped.

William smiled, a bit sarcastically, “Yes. Besides you.”

“I would say that they act oddly in regards to the establishment, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fire started to approach William Afton, and though William knew that Fire wouldn’t do anything, he let go of the door knob and turned to meet their gaze… or as much of a gaze that they could have. Fire stopped a few feet away, and William let himself relax, not realizing the tension he had in his jaw.

“I mean… yes. They do seem odd. That’s nothing too out of the ordinary,” William said back in a neutral tone.

“And there’s that new establishment even, the what…” Fire rested one of their hands on their hip, snapping with the other for a few moments before it clicked. “The Pizza-plex!”

William’s brows came together in confusion, he himself not knowing quite what they were getting at.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, can’t you see? We shouldn’t be anywhere near the Pizza-plex yet!” Fire said exasperated. “We have a location with Toy Animatronics, with the Original Gang, we have the Funtime animatronics hanging out somewhere, none of this aligns!”

William sighed, looking up to the blue sky. If he just waited them out, they would be done, and he could go back inside. They weren’t even wasting time, since no one would interfere with what Fire was meant to do anyways.

“I don’t get what you mean,” He let his head drop to look down at Fire.

His heart skipped a beat when William saw Fire in front of him, grabbing his upper arms, holding him in place.

“Everything is wrong! I thought that something was off when I first got here, but now everything is wrong! All these things existing at once don’t coincide with the story at all!” Fire said. “None of the characters are in the right places! None of the events! The employees that appeared out of nowhere, they’re a part of this somehow!”

“Look, let me go,” William said, not struggling too much to let the astronaut let go of his arms. “I get it, you only agreed to work and do my odd jobs because… well…”

“You don’t remember how I got here, Afton,” Fire said, voice stale and monotone.

“I mean yeah, ok, I don’t!” William exclaimed. “Something is going on! I get it! But I don’t get what’s the deal! That hasn’t been an issue before. Sure! We got some weird employees! That one person with the rats, and that one person who got “adopted by Mr. Hippo”, and the one who started a wrestling ring, but that’s nothing huge!”

“But nothing has changed, yet,” Fire said. “The days go in and out, funky little things happen. But nothing moves forward. The days keep coming. The sun shines. You come out here and ask me to step away from my precious grill and clean up one of your little messes… that you don’t seem to be getting caught or suspicion for, despite the fact that it seems to be well known that Freddy’s is at least a slightly sketchy place.”

“Business is booming!” Afton sighed.

“Exactly!” Fire shouted. “It shouldn’t be!”

“What are you saying? I’m doomed to fail?” William laughed.

“In more ways than one,” Fire said plainly.

William didn’t like that statement, and glared at the astronaut. Fire walked forward, up to Afton.

“You and I can’t remember anything, but out of everyone, we seem to understand that there’s more than meets the eye going on. We’re stuck here, until something happens in this broken universe,” Fire said, inches from Afton, looking down on the man.

“Alright then. And what are we supposed to do about it?” Afton asked.

“Nothing. We can’t do anything. We’re nothing more than perversion, an offshoot of some original universe.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Afton said, aggravated. “All the weird kids to go away? For me to finish my plans?”

“We’re waiting for the story to continue, of course,” Fire turned away.

They walked back to the grill, where sitting propped up next to it was a flamethrower. Dangerous to have next to a grill, to say the least, but William Afton never saw the astronaut without their flamethrower close by.

“There’s got to be some bigger plot point coming along. Something to move us all forward. We have to be going somewhere, but maybe it isn’t out yet. Whatever was going to come next, after Ultimate Custom Night. Before I got here,” Fire continued, returning to Afton.

“You’re making even less sense now,” Afton said, looking with concern down at the flamethrower. “You make it sound like, I don’t know, we’re just waiting for God to come roll the dice and choose what comes next.”

“Not God,” Fire said.

They looked away from Afton. Past him. Past the road. Past the buildings. Past the blue skies. Into the eyes of someone, into the eyes of you.

“No, someone else,” Fire returned their gaze to William. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. That everyone here is a puppet, or a pawn, of some sort. They know who you are, they know what you do, and they might know who each other are. They’re making a story, here, and it’s leading somewhere. Too many things don’t line up with what I know is true, and even the mysteries I don’t aren’t explained.”

William just stopped at that point. He was wondering if they had waited too long, and the cleanup would be harder. Though, he thought, it wasn’t his job to clean up.

“There isn’t anything beyond the locations. There’s nothing more than the world that revolves around you and Henry and the employees,” Fire poked William in the chest. “And the world never moves on. When did you make the Pizza-plex? Don’t answer, I know you don’t know. Why didn’t you shut down the Toy location? Don’t think about it? Here’s an important question, William Afton, how are the kids?”

William would have snapped. Would have grabbed Fire by the apron and strangled them with it. He was angry, but he didn’t know why. He was also sad. Afton stumbled backwards, into the wall. He didn’t know how he felt, it was a cacophony of emotions like an echochamber of butterflies eating at his insides. He looked up at Fire, who just looked down.

“We’re all waiting for them to continue the plot, Mr. Afton. And until they do, you and I are stuck in this little world. And unfortunately, knowing we’re in it, means we’re never escaping it,” Fire kneeled down, their voice soft. “I knew even before I came here about what you were up to. Your employees and coworkers don’t know what’s going on, but they’re too comfy with the nature of this place. I don’t particularly care about what you do, because according to the story, you are meant to complete these tasks.”

Fire offered their free hand to Afton. He looked at it, confused but accepting it nonetheless.

“Until the REAL story ends… and this place ends too… I’m here to make sure you achieve whatever it is to finish it properly.”

“What, like a little henchman?” Afton scoffed as Fire pulled the man to his feet.

“No, more like…” Fire considered for a bit, trying to hold their gaze on Afton and not pull past him, past the world. “More like plot armor.”

“For no other purpose than continuing some story?” Afton continued.

“For finishing the story.”

Fire turned their head to the door, as if they heard something. They slung the flamethrower over their back and walked over to the grill. They closed up the burgers, and opened the lid to the grill. The sizzling meat’s smell wafted over Afton, calming him a bit. Fire flipped it before lowering the lid, and turning to Afton.

“Mr. Afton I hope you remember, in the future, the real reason you hired me. How you got to this point. I hope the story becomes concise for you, because as someone who also does not remember their past… or how the story works… I know it is painful,” Fire picked up the burgers. “Above all, since only you and I seem to notice that something is up, we need to be there when one of us remembers something. Because most likely, it’s not us remembering, it’s us being told to remember.”

“Being told to remember?” Afton questioned, before regretting it. “You know what? Enough. I don’t know how we even GOT this far into whatever crazy conversation this is.”

“Me neither,” Fire shrugged. “It’s something seems to drive the plot of the universe it seems.”

Fire stopped and looked at the door. As they did, it opened. It was Willow, one of three people that Fire referred to as “boss”.

“You have that steak done?” Willow asked.

“Nope, got the burgers though,” Fire motioned by raising them up. “Boss-man Afton here and I were just chatting it up.”

“Alrighty, hurry it up on that steak if you can. And if you don’t mind, William, one of the animatronics is acting up and we need you to look at it. Something about smelling bad as well,” Willow said.

Fire looked at William, whose demeanor changed. He suddenly had a kind smile on, and seemed as if he didn’t have an oddly meta conversation.

“Of course. You go Willow, I’ll get the door for Fire.”

Willow nodded and left, letting the door close behind them.

William looked at Fire with a raised brow. Fire nodded to the door.

“You gonna get that?”

Afton rolled his eyes and opened the door. He went inside, holding it open as Fire walked through. Once Fire entered the dark corridor of the poorly lit building, crossing the threshold, they stopped. They turned their head and moved their body to look back out the door.

Once again they stared at nothing. But was looking right at you.

That is, until the back door to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza slammed shut.

#fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf rp #IDK how rp really works on tumblr #but writing this was pretty fun #it was also really fast though so #lots of mistakes #doesn't hold ALL the vibes I want #but i think the idea is there #anyways i'll write the TLDR

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castawaysineden · 3 years

Text

Wonderland: Alice's Wrath

NOTE: This roleplay will not be of the Wonderland characters directly. It will be an OC roleplay that fits the roles of the Wonderland characters. THIS IS ALSO A DISCORD ROLEPLAY. DM FOR LINK.

«────── « ⋅⊗⋅ » ──────»

Tick Tock

The click sound of a closing pocket watch could be heard in the deathly still silence. The carrier of the watch made sure it was securely tied to the belt loop on their jeans. Their bag was securely closed and their shoes tightly tied.

Stepping close to the edge of the sink hole they stared down at it for a long moment. They treked deserts and free climbed mountains to find this spot. They were counting the seconds in their head as they watched the darkness play tricks on their mind. The dark contorted into faces, small whistles of wind almost sounded like calls of their name, their own heart beat sounded like the ticking of a clock.

Taking out the watch one more time, they flicked it open and stared. Waiting patiently as they had been for years. Their peripheral vision could make out a flicker of color coming from the hole, but they knew better than to become entranced. One misstep and it was off with their head.

Tick Tock

Tick

Bending their knees and pushing themselves forward, 'Alice' fell thousands of feet down the 'rabbit hole'. This time, Alice was certain they were not at the mercy of the Wonderland. The Wonderland was at the mercy of Alice.

«────── « ⋅⊗⋅ » ──────»

Roles

ALICE

'Alice' had been to Wonderland once before and lived to tell the tale. However, a tale as big as that one would certainly leave marks. These marks wouldn't be healed over until the occupants of Wonderland faced 'Alice's' wrath. The bright eyed child had become a vicious hunter.

THE WHITE RABBIT

Hop, skip, and a jump away. However, this bunny was always too late. Who's to say if time took a toll on rabbit? They still do seem to back into their old habits with constantly running away and clammering on about their upcoming engagements. Hope they aren't too late on out running 'Alice'.

THE MAD HATTER

Mad is the perfect word to describe this citizen of wonderland. Seeming to constantly exaggerate, undermine, and distort every story, they are viewed as an annoyance to 'Alice'. I would hope they pushed back tea time, because 'Alice' will certainly make them upchuck their biscuits.

THE MARCH HARE

The hatter's companion and avid nuisance in Wonderland. This hare is quite different from the white rabbit. Probably just as mad as their tea time pal, they are sure to meet the same fate at them. 'Alice' wouldn't touch a hair on an innocent's head, but they would touch a hare.

TWEEDLE DEE & TWEEDLE DUM

Two riddling and rhyming twins that constantly bicker. These two are inseparable despite the quarrels. Just like any other Wonderland occupant they serve to make a nonsensical mess. Hopefully, 'Alice' won't leave them seeing double.

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS

This queen rules with an iron fist. They demand perfection in it's highest standard and has the kingdom at their finger tips. They, of course, also enjoys a lavish lifestyle to go along with the title of queen. When they don't get their way they will tend to get explosive. Hopefully they don't loose their head around 'Alice'.

THE KING OF HEARTS

The so-called co-ruler of Wonderland. This King nearly doesn't have enough power as their Queen. Seen as a weaker version of the current monarch, they still have a kingdom to run none the less. Their people are in danger and the King needs to rule... Or end up seeing red thanks to 'Alice'.

THE CATERPILLAR

This resident of Wonderland spends their time lighting up. Sole cause for Wonderland's smog problem, they are laid back compared to other citizens. That doesn't make it any better for them. Their vision should clear up before 'Alice' is the last thing they see.

THE CHESIRE CAT [TAKEN]

Now you see them, now you don't. This citizen is elusive and cunning, but their smile is always a give away. A haunting figure of illusion. They might be harder to catch then the others. 'Alice' might just knock out that toothy grin though.

OTHER

If there is any other characters you wish to Roleplay as that are not listed here feel free to contact me. Ocs are allowed, but they will be reviewed.

«────── « ⋅⊗⋅ » ──────»

Rules

Characters must be 18+

Avoid excessive follow lanauge, absolutely no slurs are permitted.

Try to meet the length of the person you responding to.

There will be mature themes such as violence, mental health, ect. You have been warned.

When you were talking out of RP text, please move to the appropriate channel.

Any speech will be indicated with quotation marks.

You cannot skip in between roleplay story lines.

You cannot declare your character to know another character without permission from the person.

You cannot declare your character to share history or background of another character without permission from the other person.

Two characters maximum unless told otherwise by a staff member.

No mary-sues.

Be respectful.

#Alice in wonderland #characters #discord #discord roleplay #group roleplay #retailwatch #roleplay partner #Roleplay #original character roleplay #wonderland #mad hatter #white rabbit #queen of hearts

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karla-the-elemental-dreamer · 3 years

Text

Response to Question 2

Q2: Pick a Disney World (canon to KH) and write your interaction as if you were subbing in for Sora.

Writing Method: For this question, I am free in my interaction with characters. The Kingdom Hearts universe already knows me; and I am Riku’s dreamer under my lore. (In question 3′s response, they will not know me, and Riku isn’t necessarily my dream guide (does not follow my directed lore)).

Also note: For RPs, my response would obviously be one-sided and I wouldn’t be playing someone else’s character, but because this isn’t a roleplay and just a story; I have to be all characters here. Thanks for understanding.

Answer: --------------------------------------------------------------------

Sora was still trapped in Quadratum, Riku was in Quadratum trying to save Sora, and Kairi was undergoing her keyblade training with Aqua.

Just a short while before Riku left for Quadratum, he was talking to me in a side room of the Mysterious Tower, to make sure I would be okay without him for a bit. As he was asking me if I would be, I said I’d miss him, but then I also twitched my nose at him. “What’s that about?”, he asked, slightly chuckling. “I know what you’re going to do to Kairi. I can smell it”. “What do you mean?”. I answered, “You’re going to make her redundant”. Riku stuttered and stopped me, “It’s not like that”. “Okay maybe I shouldn’t have sounded so harsh; I mean you’re going to tell her she can’t come with you because she’s not strong enough”. Riku blushed and then sighed. “You do know that Quadratum is a dangerous place and I’d be heartbroken if any of my friends or my dreamer didn’t make it back alive”. I bowed my head and nodded. “I guess you have a point. I don’t have to come with you, but I don’t want to be made redundant either”. “What do you have in mind?”, he wondered. “If there is anything I would be able to do back here to ensure that you are always moving forward”. “Well... You are good at connecting with people like Sora is. Tell you what. If any of our Disney friends call for help from other worlds, you can go and help them. But you have to take Donald and Goofy with you”. As much as I was friendly with Donald and Goofy, I wanted to put my own unique spin on situations, but I realised that Riku wanted them with me to protect me. And so I ended up making a compromise. “Would it be okay if I brought the teddies along instead? Just so I’d be able to do things my way”. Riku stopped to think for a bit, his finger on his chin, looking down as he pondered. “I guess that’ll be alright, but don’t you go it alone. I’m going to go to the Fairy Godmother now”. Riku hugged me as he then walked out and shut the door of the room behind him, leaving me sitting on the bed.

About two weeks later, Master Yen Sid had called me up to his chamber as one of the Disney Worlds needed help. “Oh dear, what happened to that place?”. Master Yen Sid responded, “Ursula came back, and she wants to poison all the sea creatures, turning them into heartless. Only Ariel’s grotto is safe as her Father used magic on that place, but then his trident was taken by the already existing heartless, so the rest of Atlantica is under Ursula’s spell, and King Triton was expelled to the human islands, locked away in a cave”.

“Well thankfully I materialised a keyblade about 2 months ago; only using it when I really need to. So I guess this is one time I’ll need to go over there and take out the heartless?”. Master Yen Sid sighed, but quickly composed himself as a wise ancient sorcerer would. “I really wish you would train and become a wielder, but I suppose you have impressed Riku in the past with your unique approach to things, some the guardians never thought possible. However, upon leaving for his journey to rescue Sora, Riku said that you must be guarded”. “I honestly think he’s more anxious because he’s obviously got the fear of Quadratum in his mind; but if I’m treating him as a father figure, then I don’t want to disown him. Thanks to a compromise, he did say I could take my own guards”. Master Yen Sid smiled, “Very good. Go and get those two bears of yours and make it to Atlantica and back safely”.

-- Time Skip --

Upon talking to the two bears for a bit to brief them on the task Selvian and Sierra panicked. “We can’t swim!” yelled Selvian. “Oh, the water’s going to go up my dress”, cried Sierra. Out of frustration, I had face-palmed onto the study desk in the room. “What’s wrong Mistress?”. “Donald and Goofy have the right magic, but they could cramp my style, whereas I’d much rather go with you guys, but you’d just go all sopping soggy and drown”. “I mean you could take us to Master Yen Sid and ask him what to do with us”, suggested Selvian.

-- Time Skip --

Master Yen Sid: “Ah yes, special magic is needed if you are to survive in that place. Go and see Merlin and perhaps he could instil some magic into you, effective for when you enter that realm”.

-- Time Skip --

Merlin: “Oh dash it all! Nothing’s going right today. You and your infernal data program that solved nothing. Confound it all, Cid, that computer might be new, but I can break it again”. Yuffie: “Someone’s knocking”. Merlin yelling from frustration: “Oh just come in already!”.

The door swung wide open as I wondered in with the teddies, my eyes wide, looking like a stunned fish from Merlin’s yelling. “Oh it’s you”, said Merlin in a tone of relief and somewhat excitement. “Did something happen?”, I asked him. “I have just been sitting here, countless hours doing nothing, while the slow loading times of Cid’s nonsense program consumes my system and my patience”. Cid: “Hey it’s not my fault this thing’s not workin’ the way it should.

As Merlin went over to blast some more words at Cid, Aerith approached us and asked what it was that we were in need of. Karla (me): “You see, there’s something going on in one of the Disney worlds that we need to attend to; the underwater world of Atlantica. However, the teddies aren’t built for any magic changes, so if they enter the world unprepared, they could be at risk from dying, or at least suffocating very badly”. Aerith: “I see. While once Merlin’s finished with Cid, I’m sure he could help you guys come up with a way to all make it to that place”. -- Time Skip -- Merlin: “Now let’s see. If you two could come over to the crystal ball with me, I think we need to have a look at your past life and perhaps we can gauge something from that. Sierra: “Past... Life...?”. Merlin: “Yes, if I am not mistaken, you two were humans in your past life”. Sierra: “I didn’t even know we had a past life”. Merlin: “Well of course no one would know, or you wouldn’t live your current life very diligently”. Selvian: “I don’t want to know what I was like in my past life”. Merlin: “Oh it’s not a matter of actions. It’s more a matter of looks so I have some sort of reference with how to make the mermaid magic. Teddy bears can’t have mermaid features in-built into them, but humans can”.

Selvian: “What is he asking us, Mistress?”. Karla (me): “I think you need to be turned into humans when you go into Atlantica”. Both bears screamed, and all of a sudden, went running frantically across the house.

-- Time Skip [Play KH minigame of having to catch the bears and bring them back to Merlin] -- Both bears could no longer afford to scream and were panting from exhaustion, though their hearts still beating fast with crippling anxiety. “Mistress? Are you sure about this? You will never be seen the same way in Riku’s eyes again”. I answered Selvian, “Well nothing’s happening to me now is it?”. He replied, “No, but because of us”. “I doubt Riku would drop me because you just need to act the same way and things will be fine. I do remember him saying that a good friend would see you for who you are, no matter what face you wear”. Merlin: “Exactly, nothing to be afraid about at all. Your young lass knows it all. Now give me a moment as I look into your past existence... Hmm... Let me see here... We have Rajeet Singh, Raj for short, and Toula Koziakis”. Karla (me): “Wait; so I’ll have to call them Raj and Toula?! What is this!?”, as I threw my hands up in the air. Merlin: “Their human names are a necessity in order to keep the integrity of the World Order”.

-- Time Skip (and note: Selvian -> Raj, Sierra -> Toula) --

Karla (me): “Ariel, hi; I hope you’re okay despite all the stuff that’s going on in Atlantica”. Ariel: “Oh, who are you?”. Karla: “I am a visitor from Kingdom Hearts, and I’ve been sent here with a couple of friends because we heard your world was in danger from Ursula and her desire for many heartless inhabitants”. Ariel: “Is Sora here too?”. Karla: “Unfortunately Sora couldn’t make it. You see, he’s trapped in a realm of his own. Somebody else is keeping him prisoner, and so there are friends that are saving him. I am the dreamer of his best friend Riku, and I have been sent, along with my friends Raj and Toula, to help you guys out. Raj and Toula are out fighting the heartless, but they managed to get me into this grotto with some of the magic a wizard Merlin gave them”. Ariel: “What’s your name?”. Karla (me): “Karla”. Ariel: “Oh, well in that case Karla, come to the top and I can tell you everything”. Karla: “But I thought your were living a life with Eric”. Ariel: “As much as I love my Eric, I remember all the times I broke my daddy’s heart, and I realised I missed him, so I came back to stay with him for a while. Only that’s when Ursula came back, and she said that all the inhabitants of the sea were ungrateful, and that she would make all of them obey her and grant false wishes to the humans on the coast”. Karla: “I see, wishes with conditions”.

Karla: “Excuse me for a second”. I swam to the furthest wall and as I placed an ear against it, the sound was amplified, I could hear Raj singing, followed by Ursula. I said to myself, “Raj can sing!?... I mean... He could? In his past life?”. Ariel swam down to join me. “What’s that?”. Karla: “Nothing super important. I just never knew my friend could sing”. Ariel: “Oh, I was certainly impressed when I heard Eric for the first time”. Karla: “Raj isn’t my lover; just one of my friends along with Toula”. Ariel: “Oh well he’s still someone you care about, isn’t he? You remind me a lot of Sora”. Karla: “As much I don’t like bragging, I will say that I have the heart of Sora, but the wit of Riku, so I am half-way between them”. ------------------------------------------------------------- END OF RESPONSE (otherwise this would go on for way too damn long lol. I have a habit of writing long stories. This was initially going to be shorter, but I had so much fun while writing it, hence why I added a lot before the actual Disney interaction scene. The story would have also been a monster without all the time-skips).

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

Text

Breaking Down

A/N: 18.8k word C6 side rp with @arin-schreave . Contains the usual - phone calls, tea, and a breakdown. You know how it goes. ;)

The fact that I wasn’t even surprised to find myself in the kitchen, beginning to make coffee around two in the morning should have been my first sign that something was seriously wrong. It wasn’t that I was completely oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t exactly thriving at the moment - I knew I needed more sleep, I knew I needed to stop skipping events I deemed non-essential for school work, and I knew I needed to stop avoiding the people I had begun to think of as friends - and yet, no matter how tired I was, I was in no way making an effort to change anything.

After eight days in a row of having the same dream, I had bitten the bullet, and actually began to research the psychology surrounding recurring dreams. The answers I had found were not reassuring to me in the slightest. Despite that, I had kept the dream to myself, knowing that whenever my brain did finally shut off, and let me rest, it wouldn’t be long before I was awake again, my heart racing like I had just run a marathon.

That’s exactly what had happened tonight. I had attempted to go to sleep at a reasonable hour, I really had, but within forty-five minutes of falling asleep, I had jolted awake once more. At that point, I had traded my pajamas for a pair of loose jeans and an oversized university sweatshirt that I had stolen from my father when I had done the laundry months ago, and had then smuggled here with me. I was glad I had thought to do that. The concept of having to put on a dress at two in the morning wasn’t exactly appealing. I was at the point where I hadn’t even bothered putting in my contact lenses, opting to stick with my glasses instead.

My only coherent thought had been that if I was going to be awake, I might as well do something productive with the extra hours. So, I had wandered down the halls in a daze, stopping when I finally reached the kitchen, where I now stood, staring at my coffee as it slowly dripped through the filter and into the pot, as if each droplet was a memory I could shove back out of my head. Plink. Lukas’s lips on mine. Plink. His fingers trailing across my chest as he buckled my seatbelt for me. I shuddered, wishing my mind would throw the memory - if that was what it was, as I was beginning to suspect - of that night back wherever it had been buried before.

“Oh, hey, Evalin.”

The sound of another voice made me jump. Who else was awake right now? Why was anybody else awake right now? My shoulders still tensed, I looked over my shoulder, only to see Arin looking back at me.

Of course this would be how he’d see me for the first time since the ball. He just couldn’t have stumbled into me when I actually looked presentable.

The letter I had written to him that night currently sat folded in my sweatshirt pocket, where I had placed it after re-reading it once I had woken up the morning after the ball, and immediately deemed it completely incomprehensible. I couldn’t send something like that to him. I had already made myself look like enough of a fool at that point, with the amount of champagne I had drunk. I probably owed at least half a dozen people a sincere apology, Arin potentially being one of them.

I rolled my shoulders back and down, exhaling as I did. “Oh, hello!” I replied, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I was sure he could see that I looked worse for the wear - though whether or not he even noticed was another issue entirely - but maybe I could cover that up with a facade of energy and happiness. It was Arin, after all. He probably had forgotten about the ball by this point.

He raised his eyebrows at me as he walked closer, passing me on his way to the fridge. “What are you doing here?”

My gaze immediately drifted to the pot of coffee slowly filling up besides me. I could try to lie, to deny that it was mine, but who would believe that? Covering that up wasn’t as easy as covering up exhaustion. Each drip of coffee was now a reminder that this was my life, this was what it had come to - standing in the kitchen of a palace with a prince who was grabbing a late night snack, while I looked like a stressed college freshman during their first midterm week, after pulling eight all nighters in a row.

Yeah, things were not going great, to say the least.

“Making coffee,” I admitted, turning to face him. At two in the morning, you know, like normal people do. “I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I might as well be productive.”

His eyes drifted towards the coffee pot, and then back to me. “Is something going on?”

I refused to believe that he didn’t know the answer to that question. Yes, he often stayed up late working, based on my own observations, and whispers I had heard from other people, but surely he must have known that the majority of people did not make coffee in the middle of the night when things were going well, or even just when things were normal. There really was no way in which I could spin this to make it look good.

“Just,” I began, closing my eyes for a moment. Just what? Just tired? Just confused? Just leave me alone, please? My thoughts were only becoming more jumbled the less sleep I got. The clearest thoughts, the easiest ones to process, were those that were true. Short, simple sentences, that contained only facts, and little emotion. Hadn’t I said multiple times that I needed to be more honest with him?

I reopened my eyes, exhaling before trying to speak again. “I really haven’t been sleeping much at all.” My voice was quiet, my words a lot sharper and faster than I would have liked, but it was a start. A stepping stone. A building block.

“For some reason, that seems to be going around at the moment,” he sighed.

Some part of me wanted to be angry, interpreting his words as a dismissal of my own problems. That part of me was exhausted, and clearly not thinking straight. He was right. How many nights had I seen Reggie in the library these past few weeks, working just as late - if not later - than me? Even Idalia seemed exhausted whenever I saw her in lessons, and Arin himself was also awake right now, after all.

I gave him a soft smile, quelling the rising tide of anger I had felt. “I’ve noticed. I just…” I trailed off, distracted once again by the droplets of coffee making their way into the pot. Plink. Something was going on back home with my family. Plink. Arin didn’t even know if he felt anything more than friendship for me. Plink. Lukas’s hand on my chest.

This had to stop. I tore my gaze away from the coffee, watching him as he continued to make his way towards the fridge. “Can I be honest?”

“Go for it,” he said with a nod.

I felt my throat close up before I could even open my mouth. Opening up to others had never been a strong suit of mine. Not because I didn’t trust the people I was close to with my secrets, but rather because I cared about them, and knew their worries, and didn’t want to add to their own problems. Half the time when I tried to confide in someone else, I’d end up choking up before I could finish talking, which only made whoever I was talking to more concerned. So, at some point, I had just slowly stopped being fully open with others, content to handle my problems on my own.

I felt like if I didn’t say something about what was on my mind soon, though, I was going to burst. I’d just have to keep my emotions in check, was all.

With a sigh, I pulled myself together. “I’ve just been super worried about my father. He called me from his work phone when it was two in the morning in Carolina, asking if I was okay, and then he called me by a childhood nickname that he hasn’t used in years, and really only ever used when something was wrong -” I shook my head, unsure of where I was going with this, and sure that it sounded a lot less serious than it felt to me “- and I know it sounds stupid, but trust me, it’s not a good sign.”

My throat was tightening up again, but I was nowhere near done explaining all my current thoughts and fears. I closed my eyes and took another deep breath, my chest and shoulders shaking with the effort. “And when I finally stop worrying long enough to fall asleep, I keep having this dream -” I cut myself off with another shaky breath, cursing how weak I must have looked. I was better than this. So much better than this.

What was going on with me?

Arin turned away from the fridge to face me, his hands empty. “Have you talked to him again?”

“I haven’t had the time,” I answered, looking down at my feet as I shook my head, “which sounds horrible, I know.”

“Well, it’s about six right now in Carolina, right?” He asked, glancing at his watch.

I took a look at my own watch before I replied, shaking my head as I read the time. “Five-thirty.”

“What time is he usually up?”

I knew the answer without even thinking about it. Early. He was just as bad as me when it came to sleeping in, which was another reason his late-night phone call had been so strange to me. Had he just not slept that night? It seemed impossible - my mother would have had a fit if he had stayed overnight at the lab, and yet, there really wasn’t any other plausible explanation.

“School’s in session, which means he’s probably already driving to work,” I explained, my voice still shaky as I looked back down at the ground, “so I’d have to call the work phone, which I am not going to do.”

“Evalin.” He sounded so far away, even though he was right in front of me. “If it’s bothering you that much you should reach out. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

I grabbed the edge of the counter with one hand, my watch clattering against the surface as I did. Taking another breath in an attempt to steady myself, I replied, “No, it’s not calling him that I’m worried about, it’s just who else could answer that phone. It’s -” I shook my head, feeling my throat close up again as I lifted my head upwards to meet Arin’s gaze. It’s someone who I can’t believe I ever called a friend. It’s Lukas, his lips on mine, his hand on my chest.

“There’s certain people I just couldn’t handle talking to right now,” I finished, swallowing as I looked down again, the sensation of fingers trailing across my skin vivid enough that if I closed my eyes and reopened them, only to find that I was in the backseat of June’s car, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

I needed help. I needed to talk about it. I needed to stop thinking about it.

When I looked up again, Arin was frowning and nodding. “Do you want me to call?”

“You’d do that?” I furrowed my brows, shaking my hair out with my fingers. Even if he was serious, was it worth it? What would I even say to my father, and how would he react if he picked up the phone and Arin was on the other end of the line? There were other possibilities too - Proctor could pick up, or even Lukas himself. It was also possible that another intern or professor could pick up the phone, only to hear the prince on the other end of the line. I could already hear the gossip the lab rumor mill would be churning out if that happened. The prince called Dr. Berg because he’s going to pick Evalin. No, the prince called Dr. Berg to let him know that Evalin will be sent home soon. No, the prince called Dr. Berg as a background check on Evalin.

“Of course I would,” Arin answered with a nod, as if I was foolish for thinking otherwise. “Only if you want me to, though.”

I offered him a small smile, drumming my fingers along the countertop as I looked down at my phone. It probably couldn’t hurt to at least try, and see what would happen. “Yeah,” I finally decided, my voice quiet as I unlocked my phone, looking back up at him. “Okay. Thank you. I should have the number saved.”

“Dad, I assume?” He asked as he took the phone, looking at me expectantly.

“Father,” I corrected. “I pulled it up. Thank you, again.”

After blinking once, he nodded, taking my phone and pressing the call button. “Of course.”

He was silent for a while, listening to what I assumed was the phone ringing, and then, with any luck, somebody picking up. After what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Berg.”

I was about to correct him, and say, “Dr. Berg,” when he shot me a look of confusion. I narrowed my eyes at him in response. What does that mean? Who picked up the phone? What had they said? I hadn’t anticipated just how frustrating it would be to hear only half of the conversation.

Whoever was on the other end of the line replied, the response prompting Arin to raise his eyebrows. “Actually, I asked Evalin to let me borrow her phone so I could speak with her father. I wanted to touch base with him about his upcoming visit to the palace since I’m really looking forward to meeting him.”

I had to give him credit where credit was due - it was a pretty convincing lie. He almost had me fooled.

Looking over at me, he mouthed, “Who is this?”

I furrowed my brows, running over my options in my mind. Clearly, it wasn’t my father. It likely wasn’t Proctor either, since she wouldn’t have cared why he was using my phone. She likely wouldn’t have even picked up if she saw my number pop up on the caller ID. The majority of the interns in the lab wouldn’t know my number on sight - I was sure of that much - so that left one person. My eyes went wide, and I felt the color drain from my face as I came to the realization. Thank God I hadn’t been the one to make the call.

“Lukas,” I mouthed back before looking down at my feet once more. He must have had the morning shift today. I wondered what kind of project Proctor had him working on. Was it further research on our cancer experiment? Would he now get credit for my idea? It was all I could do to keep myself from being sick right then and there as the thought ran through my mind. I leaned against the counter, fully relying on it to keep me upright as my mind spiraled down the newly opened rabbit hole, the scenario growing worse and worse by the second.

Lukas would get credit for my idea. Arin wouldn’t like me after I told him about how stupid I had been that night in the car. He’d send me packing. I wouldn’t be able to find work because of Proctor. I’d be stuck on the streets, living out the rest of my loveless days as an Eight, a cautionary tail of what not to do when you were a Selected.

Arin’s eyes narrowed at whatever Lukas had come back at him with. “Actually, it’s all been arranged with the Dean. It’s a surprise for Ev and her family, so this would be the first time he’s hearing of it, but no message is needed. I’ll get his direct number from her.”

There was another pause as Lukas responded again. Then, “I didn’t start with that because I don’t believe it pertains to you. This is between me, Ev, and her family, so nothing else is needed from you.”

Just like that, it was over. Arin blinked once, holding my phone out to me. “Can I say something?”

The world slowly stopped spinning as I reached out for my phone, placing it on the countertop behind me. I nodded as I looked up at him, searching his face for any clue as to what might have been said in that conversation. What had Lukas told him? Arin didn’t seem upset, or angry, so it couldn’t have been that bad. I felt my heartbeat slow back to something closer to normal, my breathing easier than before.

Arin paused, and then nodded. “He seems like a twat.”

I let out a laugh, the sound shaky and airy, lacking substance, as I shook my head. “You have no idea.” A few weeks ago, I would have said that he was right on the money. Lukas had been a twat for consistently calling me, trying to make me worry, attempting to persuade me to return home, and making me question why I was even here in the first place. Friends were supposed to be supportive, and he had been anything but. It had taken me a painfully long time to realize that, though, and now, it just felt too little, too late.

“How well do you know him?” Arin asked with a grimace.

“We -” I cut myself off, swallowing my original answer. We’ve been friends since we were lab partners freshman year. Had we ever been friends, really? I had offered him my time, my stories, my advice, my support, all while he had apparently been lusting after me. I wasn’t an expert at friendship - I had never claimed to be - but I had a sinking feeling that true friendship felt nothing like what we had had.

The worst part was, I had cared about him, as a friend. I worried when he looked distressed after talking to his family, I felt sympathy for him when he opened up about his life story, I had been willing to give him an ear to listen and a shoulder to lean on if he decided that he needed it, and what did I get in return? He had pressed me for details about my life that I hadn’t been ready to share, and had always insisted that he knew the proper solutions to my problems. Even looking back on his reaction when he discovered that I had signed up for the Selection, it seemed like he had had my life planned out for me, before I ever did, and that it was apparently bold of me to have had the audacity to throw a wrench in his version of my ideal life. He had my future mapped out, without my input, without my say. What kind of friend did that?

I cleared my throat, shaking my head as I looked down at the floor once more. “I thought we were friends, but I don’t think he thought the line was drawn at friends.” My voice was little more than a whisper. His lips on mine. His fingers on my chest. Had I elected to block that memory out, not wanting it to have been real? That seemed like a plausible explanation. What other memories had I blocked out, forcing myself to forget in order to keep my illusionary delusion of a happy life together? How long had this been going on? My mind had always been the one thing I could trust, that I could rely on, but now, I wasn’t even sure of that.

My world was ripping apart at the seams, and I couldn’t sew it back together fast enough. I let go of the counter, intent on tucking some of my hair behind my ear, but was unable to keep my hand from shaking as I did.

“Evalin?”

I looked back up at the sound of his voice, softer now than it had been before. He hadn’t moved from where he stood, but even from here, as I felt tears begin to form and blur my vision, I could see the concern in his eyes.

“I…” I trailed off, knowing I should open up, but unsure of where to even begin, or how he’d react when I did. I had to stay calm, and keep my wits about me. “I started having this dream recently - often - and sometimes I swear I remember it, but it’s like I’m watching it unfold.” I opened my mouth to continue, but no words came out. Instead, the only sound was a raspy breath, the air barely passing into my lungs as I choked up again.

I turned my head towards the ceiling, willing my eyes to stop tearing up. I would not cry. I could not cry.

I sensed him stepping around the island, moving closer to me, but making no move to touch me. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

It’s okay.

It was so far from okay.

“I -” My voice cracked as I lowered my head to look at him, gravity pulling the first tear out of my eye for me, so I didn’t have to let it go myself. “I don’t know why I didn’t remember.”

I was crying. I knew I was crying. I hated it. I needed to stop. Shaking my head, I removed my glasses, using the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe my eyes. I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

“I mean, I was seriously fucked up that night -” I attempted to explain, “- like capital “B” bad, and we were driving home and had to stop for gas, which was weird, but I didn’t question it, and my other friend had to go inside to pay.”

I shook my head again, taking another deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. Why hadn’t I questioned it? I should have questioned it.

“And he just started kissing me,” I continued, the words pouring out of my mouth before I could even think about them. “And I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything.”

There was no stopping the tears from coming anymore. I locked eyes with Arin, rooted in my spot. “I’m sorry, I know this is a lot, I just - I don’t know why I didn’t remember, or why it’s only coming back now.”

He swallowed, but made no move to come closer. “Can I hug you? Are you okay with that?”

His response caught me off guard, but I nodded, looking down. “Yes.” At least my voice hadn’t cracked this time. I’d leave here with a shred of my dignity in tact.

Before I could look up again, he had stepped closer, wrapping his arms around me. I couldn’t speak, the only thoughts going through my mind pertaining to the memory being in that backseat, the feeling of the cold window against my forehead when it was over, and of somebody else’s arm wrapped around me as I was led up a flight of stairs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

I allowed myself to sink into his embrace, his touch firm, assuring me he wasn’t going anywhere, and yet still gentle, as if he was afraid I might shatter if he held on too tightly. I couldn’t remember when I had last cried in front of someone like this, or had been held in this kind of way. Time slipped away as we stood there, him rocking back and forth, and me just crying into his shoulder, completely incapable of any other action, with the exception of one mumbled, “Thank you.”

It could have been minutes or hours before my tears finally started to slow, and I picked my head up, wiping away some of the last few. “Thank you. I -” I cut myself off with a shake of my head, already knowing he would tell me not to apologize. “Thank you.”

“No thanks are needed. I’m here for you, I hope you know that,” he insisted, slowly reaching up towards my face with one hand, wiping away some stray tears from my eye with his thumb. The gesture was so simple, and yet he was so careful about it, his eyes never leaving mine. Something inside my chest broke, and then started putting itself back together again.

I could only nod, taking another deep breath, my chest and shoulders still shaking with the effort. “I really appreciate that.”

He nodded back, and then frowned. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m really not sure,” I admitted, biting my lip as I shook my head, my voice still quiet, as if I lacked the strength it would take to speak at a normal volume. “Just you being here - having someone to talk to - was good, though.”

“Okay.” He nodded again before letting go, taking a step back away from me, his face becoming blurry in my vision.

My glasses. I took a step backwards as well, feeling the counter against my back as I reached my hand behind me, feeling around for the frames. After a few blind pats, I felt them. Picking them up, I slowly slid them back on to my face, blinking as the world came back into focus. There was Arin, a stain from my tears on his shoulder, his face filled with a blend of caution and concern. He deserved better from me than this. I was stronger than this. I handled my problems on my own. I didn’t fall apart in kitchens, or cry in front of other people.

Except I just had, and I felt much less burdened than I had when I had first walked in here, in the pursuit of coffee.

“I wish I could give you more of an answer, but…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I really just don’t have one, right now. At this point, I think the best thing I could do would just be to figure out some way I can sleep, so I can think straight, and then go from there.”

“Of course.” He swallowed, nodding again as he stepped away towards the pantry, coming back with a box of tea. “Have you tried this?”

One look at the box told me that I never had. “No,” I answered, shaking my head. “I haven’t. What is it?”

“It’s tea that’s supposed to help you sleep,” he answered, putting the box down on the other end of the counter, and then sliding it towards me.

I grabbed the box, taking a close look at what it was. SleepyTime Extra. A fitting name, I hoped. A quick glance at the label and some writing on the box revealed that the active ingredients were chamomile, tilia flowers, and valerian root, which would make sense. There were numerous studies that showed that valerian root helped with falling asleep, and even improved the quality of sleep. Some studies even suggested that it helped alleviate anxiety, though there was less evidence for that than there was for its use as a sleep aid. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. “Thank you,” I replied, still reading over the labels for more information.

I looked at my watch, wincing as I saw how late it was, and set the box back on the counter, keeping one hand on it as I looked up at Arin. “I think I’ll have to give it a try tomorrow night. I normally wake up soon, anyway, and I don’t want to throw off my schedule, or miss anything.” I bit my lip, knowing full well I needed sleep, but also that I shouldn’t skirk any of my responsibilities. I also didn’t want to skip my morning run. Running was the one time I didn’t have to think, my body going on autopilot as I put one foot in front of the other. I was pretty sure it was the only thing that had helped me keep it together for the past few weeks.

I wished I had misread my watch. How had it gotten so late?

He swallowed once, nodding. “Okay.” His every motion and word seemed calculated - cautious even, as if he were afraid one wrong move could set off a bomb. It was a full role reversal. That was normally how I felt talking to him.

I was too tired play a guessing game with his thoughts tonight. “What is it?”

He just shook his head. “It’s nothing”

No, we were not going to do this again tonight. Not when I had opened up to him. “It really doesn’t look like it’s nothing,” I argued with a small sigh. “Please tell me?” My request came out sounding more like a question as I second guessed myself once again. Was this pushing too far, prying for information he’d rather keep private?

There was a glimmer of hesitation in his eyes as he took a deep breath. “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable, and that I don’t cross any boundaries.”

Oh. I couldn’t do anything other than look at him as I thought back to our previous interactions, trying to figure out what he had even done that might make him think he had crossed any lines. Our kiss, maybe? He hadn’t asked me, but I had also practically asked him to kiss me. I was pretty sure that there hadn’t been any issue with the way we had sat together on the floor of the theater, either.

I took a deep breath, shaking my head before looking at him once again. “You haven’t - at all. You always ask if things are okay, and never push for more than I’m willing to give. You’ve done nothing to make me uncomfortable.” I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but fatigue got the better of me, and I was sure it didn’t come across with as much certainty as I had intended it to.

“I hope I haven’t done anything to make you feel that way, either,” I added after a moment's thought, looking down for a moment as I cleared my throat.

He didn’t meet my eye, instead looking down at the box of tea. “I just don’t want to do anything wrong.”

For the second time that night, I felt my heart break in two. I took a few steps towards his, reaching for his hand, to give it a squeeze. “You haven’t.” At all. Please, don’t think you have.

His gaze shifted to our hands then, his caution, his reservation, evident in his face. “Will you make sure to tell me if I do?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately, squeezing his hand another time as I flashed him a soft smile.

He nodded, looking up at me, a soft smile flashing across his face for a sliver of a second. “Thank you, Evalin.”

Thank me? No. That was wrong. I should be thanking him - for being here, for caring, for offering to do better - for everything.

With that, he glanced around, taking a deep breath. Our hands. Was the contact making him uncomfortable, after everything I had said? I let go, tucking some hair behind my ear instead. With a week smile, I grabbed the box of tea in my other hand, unsure of what to say to make him more comfortable. Maybe he just needed time to himself, to think, to process. I could understand that.

I didn’t want to be alone, and yet, he might need to be. “I don’t want to keep you up longer than you have to be.” He was a human, who needed sleep as well, and if he was lucky, he might be able to get some tonight. I sure wasn’t going to.

“Oh.” He blinked once, appearing to be taken aback, his eyes drifting to the box of tea. With a nod, he offered, “I can go if you want.”

I furrowed my brows. I had been offering to leave, not asking him to leave. He hadn’t even gotten whatever he had come here for out of the fridge. “No, that’s fine, I can go.” Or, maybe he wanted to leave. “I mean, whatever you want to do!”

“I don’t need anything, and you were here first,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I can leave you in peace.”

“I-“ I bit my lip, trying to organize my thoughts into a coherent sentence. I wouldn’t be at peace if he left. If anything, I wanted someone here, with me, more than I wanted anything else, right now. It was nice, not being alone. “Why do all of our conversations seem to end like this?” With me, unable to voice my true thoughts, and you, misunderstanding? Or, maybe I was the one doing the misunderstanding. I shook my head before looking up towards the ceiling.

He hesitated for a moment. Then, “Do they?”

Had he seriously never noticed? I looked back at him, nodding, not shocked to see the surprised expression on his face. “It’s like, towards the end of every conversation, we just both get so awkward. Is it something I’m saying or doing? What’s causing it?”

He grimaced. “I don’t know what it is. Is it something I’m doing- in your opinion, I mean?”

“No, not that I can see. It just feels like there’s always some - I don’t know, miscommunication? I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Maybe I’m imagining it.”

He swallowed and the shrugged again, the gesture smaller this time. “Maybe there is, but I’m not sure I’d be able to pinpoint the cause for you.”

“Right, sorry, I -“ I shot him an apologetic smile, and then shook my head, swallowing once. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

I held his gaze, though my voice was quieter when I spoke. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position, is all.” I just wanted company. I just wanted to talk to you.

“Well, calling things awkward doesn’t exactly help.”

“God, you’re right.” I couldn’t help but wince. “I’m sorry, I…” I trailed off, shaking my head as I tried to locate my train of thought. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Evalin, really -“ he grimaced again “- there’s no need to apologize. It’s fine.”

How could he even say that, after admitting that I had made him uncomfortable? After I had called him awkward? Maybe I should have just let him leave.

“Is it? Really?”

“You don’t think it is?” he asked, gripping the counter in his hands.

I sighed, flashing him a small smile. “Here we go again.” It was like the ball all over again. My note to him weighed heavy in my sweatshirt pocket, my illegible writing likely more understandable than anything we were saying now. I reached my fingers under my glasses to rub one of my eyes, wondering if I should just bite the bullet and show the letter to him.

He simply raised his eyebrows. “Well, then tell me what you want?”

“I never know how to answer that,” I admitted, still smiling as I shook my head at myself. The question itself was kind of vague - I could never tell if he meant right now, in the moment, or if he meant long term. I had guessed long term twice now, in the past, and neither had gone particularly well, so maybe he did mean currently. It was worth a shot. It wasn’t like the situation could get much more uncomfortable than it already was. “Right now? Honestly? Not being alone is nice. Still, though, I don’t want to keep you awake.”

“I’m not going to sleep any time soon,” he stated. “So if you want me to stay, then I can.”

“Stay, then, please.” My voice was painfully quiet to my ears. I thought back to our time at the ballet, and how it had felt to lean my head on his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as we sat nestled side by side, our hands clasped together. That. I wanted that. It seemed like too much to ask him for, though, judging by the way he had reacted to just our hands touching.

He nodded, leaning back against the counter. “Okay then, I’ll stay.” A moment passed, and then he hoisted himself up over the edge, so that he was seated on the countertop, his feet dangling over the edge.

I watched him for a moment, unsure of what to do next. It was too much to ask, to lean my head on his shoulder, but we could still sit side-by-side without touching. So I followed his example, looking down at my feet once I was seated. The last time I had sat on a counter, I had been a toddler. I had stepped on a bee in our front yard, and my father had to pull out the stinger with a pair of tweezers. He had set me down on the counter while he ran to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, and I had simply watched him, not even crying as I wriggled my legs back and forth, banging them against the cabinets. What would he say, if he could see me now, now that I knew all that I had done wrong? Would he be upset? Sad? Angry? Still proud, somehow?

I looked over at Arin. “Were you serious when you mentioned family coming to visit next week?”

“I was,” he answered with a nod. “You were going to find out in the next few days anyway.”

My family was coming here, to the palace. I was going to see them, for the first time in months. I would have been beaming, if I had had the energy. “That might just be the happiest news I’ve gotten, recently.”

He smiled, his eyes a bit distant as he nodded. “I’m glad you’re excited.”

I nodded along, my smile falling a bit as I took in his expression. “It’ll be nice to see them - for me, at least.” A flicker of a smirk crossed my face as I imagine how him meeting them might go. If my whole family was coming, I knew Lydia and Gabriel especially would show him no mercy. Even my father would likely be hard on him, though not intentionally. My mother would likely be the one to keep the peace, as she often did, her upbringing too rooted in politeness and manners for her to do anything but, most of the time.

He smiled back, the expression soft. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking down at my feet again as I continued to imagine the chaos my siblings would no doubt unleash if they were invited. “It’s going to be good to catch up with them. Is it just parents, or siblings too?”

“Everyone who can make it,” he answered, his own smile growing now.

He looked so thrilled about the idea, that I almost laughed at him. “You really have no clue what you’re in for, then.”

“Believe it or not I’m actually fairly decent in social situations,” he replied, shrugging.

“Oh, it’s not you I’m worried about. My family…” I trailed off, shaking my head as memories of my siblings’ antics flashed through my mind, absentmindedly swinging my right leg back and forth a bit, taking care not to hit the cabinets with my heel. “We’re all just very close, and a tad protective of each other, even if we will tease each other into oblivion.”

“That's fine,” he insisted. “I’m sure I can handle anything thrown at me.”

He had another storm coming if he truly believed that. Maybe he was right, though. There was always a chance that my siblings would listen to our mother, and behave themselves. Alternatively, they could come at him full force, and he could just take it, and be okay. Or, would he fight back? That could get ugly.

I let out a single laugh, covering my mouth with my hand as it turned into a yawn. “Imagine four Ayeshas. That’s your most likely scenario.”

“And I’ll manage it,” he repeated, shrugging again. “Trust me. I know my limits.”

I had no doubt that he did, but would my my siblings - again, Lydia and Gabriel in particular - have any regard for them? I wasn’t sure. What did that mean for them, then, if things went south? Would they simply be asked to leave, or were there other consequences? Would Arin stoop so low as to take out any frustration he had with them on me? I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t about to put anything past him.

I nodded, still a bit lost in thought. “They’re good people, honestly, we just place a lot of value in family, and putting them first.” My voice was quieter now, my tone entirely serious. At least he couldn’t say I didn’t warn him. I looked down, wondering what it would take to get my point through his thick skull. Clearly, arguing with him wasn’t the answer. So, I looked back up at him, forcing myself to offer him a small smile.

He won’t punish them for caring about you. He has to understand the kind of bond siblings have. He was an oldest brother himself, after all.

“Well, that’s good to know, but really -” he looked over at me again “- I’ve had years of practice, and believe it or not I’ve met families before.”

“Right, of course.” He’d been engaged before, for crying out loud, and interacted with powerful officials from Illéa and abroad almost every day. There shouldn’t be anything my siblings could say that would get to him, and yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the calm before the storm. I shook my head. “I don’t know why I’m so worried.”

“It’s natural,” he assured me, chuckling as he looked away again.

“I think you would’ve been entertained by how nervous I was the first time I met your mother. Though, she did catch Jen and I off guard.” I smiled at the memory, both at myself for being terrified for no reason, and at the kindness Mélanie had shown Jen and I. To think, it had been completely by chance that I had ended up in the kitchens that evening. If Lukas hadn’t called me…

Lukas. My smile faltered.

Arin raised his eyebrows. “What happened?”

“I had wandered in on Jen making cookies while I had been on the phone with Lukas -” my voice was quiet, my smile completely gone as I thought of his name, his face, his words “ - before I really realized -” his lips on my lips, his fingers on my chest “ - back when he was just a twat.”

I had to stop making this about him. This story wasn’t about him. I shook my head, as if the very motion itself would shake him right out of my brain. Goodbye, Lukas.

“Then your mother walked in for wine, and ended up pouring us glasses, which I think caught both Jen and I by surprise. It -” I paused, trying to figure out how to best describe the experience of drinking wine and talking with Mélanie “- was nice, though. She’s nice. Though, I think she might have been annoyed by how skittish Jen and I were.” I flashed him a small smile, hoping the gesture would serve as proof that I didn’t dislike his mother in the slightest.

“Then my father called, and I left,” I concluded. “It was an eventful evening.”

“Oh,” was all he said at first, a look of embarrassment making its home on his face. “I hope she didn’t scare you too much. She can be a lot.”

“No!” I shook my head, giving him a smile that was as reassuring as I could manage. His mother had been lovely. If only I had relaxed sooner when speaking to her, then maybe the evening would have gone more smoothly for all parties involved. “No, I think I was definitely more nervous than was warranted. She was really nice.”

“She has her moments,” he offered, going silent for a moment before adding, “and I’m sure you’ll get to meet Amma in a few weeks when she’s home.”

“Amma?” I tilted my head to the side a bit, smiling as I asked the question.

He nodded. “The Queen. She’ll be home in a couple weeks.”

Queen Anjali would be back in the palace, and soon - potentially even around my upcoming birthday, not that that mattered. I hadn’t heard of anyone meeting her before she had left for her world tour. I supposed we’d be the lucky few, to get to meet her now.

“Oh,” I responded, straightening my back a bit. “What’s she like?”

“She’s busy,” he answered, raising his eyebrows, “and you might actually want to hold off on meeting her if my mom scared you.”

“She didn’t scare me,” I argued, thinking back to how I had even told his mother as much. She wasn’t scary. That wasn’t the right word for it. She had been an unknown, and a parent, that deserved respect as such. I didn’t imagine she’d care to share wine with two of her son’s potential girlfriends, who had practically invaded her home, and more specifically, her kitchen.

“I think it was more that I didn’t know what to expect. So, thanks for the warning, I guess?” I laughed, but the sound was hollow and tinny to my ears. Nervous. A reaction that Arin himself had kind of validated. Yet, if he wasn’t worried about meeting my family, I was willing to attempt to suspend judgement and do my best stop being intimidated by his. “Busy, though, I can imagine.”

“Very busy,” he echoed with a nod, “but not all of the reasons are bad. We’ll have a Halloween party in the next few weeks, and I’m looking forward to that.”

I wanted nothing more than to be blissfully excited at the thought of a halloween party, and yet, I hesitated. Would I even be around to see it? Arin had narrowed the Elite down to eight instead of ten. More girls were being sent home, faster than I anticipated. The clock was ticking, and if Arin didn’t feel the same way about me that I felt about him, then my time was almost up. I began to do the mental math. He had sent home two girls about every two to three weeks. Assuming he kept with the tradition of a final three, and assuming that I even made it that far - and both of those were pretty hefty assumptions - that gave me until about mid-November to win his heart. I hated thinking of it that way, but when it came down to it, that was the truth of the matter. I was here to compete for and hopefully win his love.

“That sounds like fun,” I replied, swallowing my questions and concerns. “Was Halloween a big celebration for you all?”

He just shrugged. “I mean we used to go trick or treating but we don’t usually have celebrations this big. It’s just for the Selection.”

I smiled a little, remembering what Halloween had been like for me as a kid, running around my neighborhood in a bedsheet and calling myself a ghost. “Did you go into the city to trick or treat?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head, “we would go to my grandparent’s neighborhood. It’s about half and hour away.”

“That must have been fun - all costumed up, and everything.” I turned my head slightly to get a better view of him, grinning at the image of a little Arin running around in a Halloween costume. I wondered what he had gone as, when he was younger. The costumes must have been amazing, coming from the palace, after all.

“It was,” he admitted with a nod, “but I’m sure the party will be just as fun.”

“Oh, for sure. I suppose I’ll actually have to think up a Halloween costume this year.” Assuming you don’t send me home before then. If this conversation was any indication of how interested he was in keeping me around, my chances weren’t looking too hot. He sounded like he was talking to someone he’d rather not be in a conversation with, but didn’t want to be rude to.

Once again, he shrugged. “It’s not a big deal or anything, but I’m sure you could ask your maids about it.”

Okay, he was definitely either tired, or just not in the mood for this conversation. That was fine. I appreciated the company, sure, I mean, I had literally asked him to stay with me, but I had no intention of holding him here against his will.

“Well, it gives me something different to think about,” I replied, pushing myself off the counter, turning around once I was on my feet to look at Arin again, a small smile on my face. It was late, an hour when most people were asleep. He probably just needed sleep too.

“What’s that?” He looked at me like I had just tried to explain calculus to him, his gaze wavering only when he stopped to blink a few times, his eyes refocusing on me, and the world around us.

So, just lost in thought, then. I was rather familiar with the sensation.

“What were you thinking about?” I asked, leaning forwards against the counter, my curiosity now piqued.

He cleared his throat. “I was just thinking about my grandpa.”

“You’ve mentioned him once before,” I noted, feeling my gaze soften a bit. “Were you two close?”

“Yeah, we were. I just miss him sometimes.” He nodded once, his smile fond as his eyes grew distant yet again. His grandfather must have passed away a while ago, then. Unfortunately, I knew all too well what the pain of that felt like. The image of my mother’s parents flashed before my eyes, of them smiling in their front yard, watching my siblings and I as we chased each other around with balls and sticks, allowing us to let out all of our chaotic, childish energy before returning home.

I offered him a small smile, reaching for his hand without a second thought. “What was he like?”

“Oh,” he began, looking down at our hands, now touching. I followed his gaze, wondering if he wanted me to let go, but ultimately, I decided not to. He hadn’t asked me to, or expressed discomfort with the gesture. I had never been great with words. The simple gesture of holding his hand, or squeezing, was probably more supportive than anything else I could have offered him.

“He was great, from what I remember. He’d rarely ever raise his voice. And he was a fantastic storyteller.”

I paused for a moment, considering the mention of him never raising his voice, wondering if that was a common trend from other people in Arin’s life. I dropped that train of thought, though, in favor of something lighter. “A storyteller?”

Arin nodded. “Yeah, he’d make up all sorts of stories and tell them to us before bed sometimes - actually any time, if you were willing to listen. I think he’d have made an excellent writer, if he’d have had the chance.”

I furrowed my brows as I looked at him, my words slow, cautious, as they left my mouth. “Why didn’t he have the chance?”

“Oh, well he was a politician, so that would have been below his caste, but he also just never had the time, and when he did…” He trailed off then, taking a deep breath.

That was enough. I wouldn’t push him for anything further. One person crying in this kitchen tonight had been enough for the both of us, I was pretty sure. Instead, I squeezed his hand, unsure of how else to convey that I was there for him, and glad he had finally opened up to me a bit, at the same time. “He sounds like a really great man, and his stories still live on - in you, and in anyone else who heard them.” It sounded cheesy, but it felt like the right thing to say.

“I hope so,” he replied with a nod, turning to face me and give me a small smile. “One day, I hope to be just a fraction as good as he was.”

I came to the conclusion then that Arin couldn’t see how good he, himself already was. A bad person wouldn’t have stayed with me, wouldn’t have held me while I cried, wouldn’t have asked me if I was okay with even the slightest touch. Arin had helped me find solutions to my problems, had sat through an entire ballet to make me happy - none of those added up to him being a bad person. Had he made mistakes? Yes. Was he perfect? No - who was? He didn’t need to be perfect to be good. That was a lesson I had spent most of my own teenage years learning for myself. Perfection was impossible, but you could still be good.

I felt my smile melt into something softer. “Obviously, I never met him, but I have met quite a few people these past almost-twenty-one years, and I can confidently say you’re one of the good ones.”

He just snorted. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

“I think I’ve gotten fifteen hours total this week,” I answered, grimacing at my own response before looking back up at him, my expression now dead serious, “but I meant what I said.”

“Ev -” concern shone in his eyes “- you really should sleep.”

“I know.” I sighed, my shoulders sagging under the weight of the admission. My body was so tired, but my mind was only just waking up. “Believe me, it’s not for lack of trying.”

His eyes darted to the forgotten box of tea on the countertop. “Why don’t I make you some tea and then walk you to your room?”

The offer was tempting, and rather sweet, but a quick glance at my watch had me rethinking accepting it. I usually started my mornings pretty early, and my routine was the one thing that I had going for me right now, that kept me together when everything else got crazy. He was right though, and I knew that. I should sleep. I bit my lip, still unsure as I asked, “How strong is the tea?”

He looked down at the box, biting his lip as well. “I’ve never actually tried it,” he admitted.

Hypocrite. He’d tell me to do whatever it took to get some sleep, but wouldn’t do the same for himself. I furrowed my brows, getting the feeling that this tea had been bought with the express purpose to be used by him, and yet, he had never touched it, apparently.

That was none of my business, though, nor was it the problem at hand. “I just don’t want to accidentally oversleep,” I replied kind of sheepishly, my voice quiet as I lifted my eyes to meet his.

“Something tells me it’ll be okay if you do,” he assured me, shooting me a soft smile, “and if not, then whoever has a problem with it can take it up with me.”

I cast another look at the box. Arin would do that for me? He’d go as far to tell others to let me sleep undisturbed while there were other tasks I should be doing, and yet still had the audacity to say he wasn’t a good person?

It had to be guilt, I decided then, but about what?

I had some digging to do.

I exhaled once before lifting my head to look at him more fully. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated back, leaving for a moment to grab a Pyrex for the water, which he filled in the sink, and then popped into the microwave.

I watched him as I leaned back against the counter, my mind running at full speed as I absentmindedly fiddled with the letter in my pocket. Had it been something that had happened with Felicity, that had made him feel like he couldn’t possibly be a good person? They still talked, though - had danced together, even. It didn’t add up. Was it something that had been going on for a long time, then? Even Hugo had said that Arin could be a difficult person, and they had known each other for quite some time.

I had never asked Arin’s other friends or family about him, or why he was the way that he was. Something about that felt wrong, almost, like I was gossiping about him behind his back. He had a right to keep things to himself, if he wanted to. Now, however, I kind of wished I had asked.

“Thank you, again,” I offered, watching the Pyrex spin in the microwave.

“No problem,” he replied, leaning against the opposite counter, looking at me with a soft smile on his face. His eyes flicked down, towards my pocket, and his expression changed to something more curious.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “What is it?”

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re fidgeting.”

“Oh.” I had been, I realized as I looked down at my hands. It hadn’t even registered, I was so deeply lost in thought. “I didn’t even realize, but yeah, I’m fine. Just realized I had something in my pocket I had forgotten about,” I lied, looking up and giving him a smile. I wouldn’t ask him about the guilt he carried. Not yet, at least. Another night, perhaps.

I had to get rid of this incomprehensible letter anyway. I pulled the folded up piece of paper out of my pocket, walking over to the trash bin. The apologies it contained were likely worthless, anyway. He’d never accept them - just tell me that I needed to stop apologizing.

“I wrote something down after the ball, but honestly, I can’t even read it,” I explained, shaking my head and laughing a bit to myself. “I don’t know why I kept it.”

He eyed the paper as I paused, watching as my hand hovered over the bin, ready to drop the letter in at a moments notice. “What was it?” There was no suspicion is his voice, just genuine curiosity.

“A letter, I think. Probably apologizing.” I shook my head. “Like I said, it’s completely illegible.”

“You didn’t want to mail it?” As he asked the question, the microwave beeped, and he made his way over to it, pulling out the Pyrex.

“It wouldn’t have to go that far.” Just to your room. I shook my head again, opening the lid of the trash bin, and dropping the letter in. The top closed with a satisfying thud. “Plus, again, illegible.”

This whole letter or note thing was terribly impractical. I should just ask for his phone number instead. It might save me from leaving an embarrassing written record of all of my thoughts. I never drunk texted - I was usually too wrapped up in my own thoughts, or whatever was happening around me to even think about my phone. Besides, after reliving my drunkest moments vividly each night for the past week, I wasn’t inclined to touch alcohol again anytime soon.

Setting the Pyrex down on the counter, he set his eyes on me, hesitating for just a moment before asking, “Who was it for?”

You, you idiot. Isn’t it obvious? I felt blood rushing to my cheeks, but I just shook my head, making my way across the kitchen, back to him, and the Pyrex.

His eyes lingered on me for a moment, but he didn’t ask me for more details. Instead, he walked towards the cabinet, grabbing a mug before turning back. Once he had reached the Pyrex again, he pulled a tea bag out of its wrapper, wrapping the string through the handle of the mug as he set the bag into the mug itself.

I let out a breath, glad to let the matter drop, even if I had brought it up in the first place in an effort to cover up what I had truly been thinking about. Arin would have dismissed what I had written out of hand anyway, telling me to stop apologizing - if he could even read what I had written, that was.

I looked at the mug for a moment, still unsure about the tea. If I pulled an all-nighter tonight, there was a possibility that I’d just collapse from exhaustion at the end of the day tomorrow. Wouldn’t that be better? A full night of sleep? Then I wouldn’t have to reorganize my entire day tomorrow to account for sleeping in, if I didn’t wake up after two hours again.

I turned to him, narrowing my eyes. “What were you doing up this late?”

“Same as you, I guess,” he answered, pouring hot water over the tea bag, and then pushing the mug my way. “I couldn’t sleep, so here I am.”

There was no way out of this. I had to drink the tea. I brought the mug to my lips, taking a tentative sip, keeping my eyes on him. The taste wasn’t terrible - very earthy, with a hint of sweetness - but it definitely wasn’t something I’d go out of my way to drink again. “Any reason in particular?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just the way things are with me, but you -“ he narrowed his eyes at me “- you’re not a lost cause yet.”

Hypocrite! I raised an eyebrow, chuckling a bit before taking another sip, half tempted to force him to drink some tea, too. “‘Yet,’” I echoed.

“You’re still young, and you have time to dig yourself out of this hole,” he argued, shrugging.

Could he even hear himself, talking about his life and habits like he was a middle aged man, and I was some child who had come to him for help. It was absurd. I shook my head, rolling my eyes and smiling as I finished what was left in the mug in one go, just wanting to get it over with.

“For starters,” I began, setting the mug down on the counter, “I’m only two and a half years younger than you. As to your other point , I think I’m just used to a reverse schedule - I used to wake up before sunrise regularly, at home.” It was likely that I hadn’t been getting much more sleep before coming here than I was now, but somehow, waking up early to get work done was looked upon with approval, encouraged, even, whereas staying up late was often frowned upon. It was funny, considering the end result was the same.

“Well, all I’m saying is save yourself before you’re like me. You have two and a half years to make sure this doesn’t become your future.” He pointed at himself, as if he was the epitome of the worst thing I could possibly be two and a half years from now.

I raised an eyebrow at him, pushing the empty mug further away from me. “And what, you’re beyond hope? There’s absolutely nothing that can be done to help fix your sleep schedule?” He was being absolutely ridiculous. If I wasn’t a lost cause, neither was he.

“There’s a lot more to it than just sleeping,” he replied with a shrug, “but maybe one day I’ll be able to sort myself out.”

“You will.” Was it guilt that was making him feel like this? Perfectionism? A combination of both? There was definitely more to Arin than I was seeing right now, but I wasn’t about to pry, to push for details he might not feel comfortable sharing yet. I placed my hand on his shoulder, keeping my touch light as a feather. “I’m here, if you ever need or want to talk.”

I meant every word I said, even as I felt myself growing drowsier. Removing my hand from his shoulder, I laughed lightly to myself, a particular memory coming to mind. “I’m pretty sure I told you as much when we went roller skating.”

He immediately grimaced. “No offense, but I think that’s the last time I’m ever skating.”

“None taken.” I felt my smile soften as I pushed myself away from the counter, rinsing out my mug in the sink. Looking back at him over my shoulder, I reiterated, “My point still stands, though.”

He chuckled. “I know. Thank you for that. I appreciate it a lot.”

“Good.” My voice was soft as I gave him a small smile, my thoughts still moving at a million miles per hour despite the tea and my own pre-existing exhaustion. As if on cue, I yawned, covering my mouth with my hand as I did. I needed to think, to plan, on how to find out just what Arin had done or been like in the past, that had led him to this point. It would be easier to do that alone, at my desk, or maybe even in my bed, to give myself the illusion that I was sleeping.

I inclined my head towards the door. “Should we go?”

“That quick, huh?” He chuckled. “Maybe I need to start downing this stuff in my spare time.”

You should.

“I mean, I was already physically exhausted, I just need to shut my mind off,” I muttered, frustrated with my own mind as I shook my head.

He just blinked. “I’m glad I could help you shut your mind off then, I guess.”

I winced, realizing just how harsh my words had been. “That didn’t come out like I meant it to, sorry. I meant that I’m not awake because I’m not tired, but because a lot of the time, I get too wrapped up in my thoughts to fall asleep, if that makes sense.”

“I know, it’s fine.” Arin shook his head, eyeing the door as he did. It wasn’t fine, and I knew that. There were so many other things I could have said instead, so many better words, nicer phrases, than what I had chosen.

“You ready?” he asked.

I looked around, assessing the rest of the kitchen, before nodding. “Let me just clean up the coffee I made earlier.”

I knew technically someone would have to come around and clean it up in the next few hours, when breakfast prep started, but I didn’t intend on making extra work for anyone. My mother would have had a fit if she watched me leave a full pot of coffee on the counter. So I walked over to the pot, taking off the lid, and then pouring the contents into the sink, watching as they spiraled down the drain. It almost seemed like a waste.

I shook my head at myself. That was ridiculous. The coffee was cold, by now. It’d be awful to consume. Not that that tea Arin had made was much better. The valerian root made it smell faintly of dirty socks, and it tasted like twigs and rain water. I didn’t even think it was doing anything for my mind, except making me feel like I was mildly hungover.

I rinsed out the pot, drying it with a towel that someone had left on the counter, before returning the pot to the coffee maker, and turning to look at Arin. He was standing by the door, watching me, his expression a mix of confusion and something that looked almost thankful. “Oh.”

I shook my head as I walked across the kitchen towards him, chuckling. “What? I wasn’t just going to leave it! I can hear my mother getting on me about that already.” My mother, who’d be here next week. What would she think of Arin? Would she see him as a Prince Charming, or would she see through the facade, and see the well-intentioned, but troubled person underneath? My father often liked to share how she had called him a Three with a savior complex when he had first asked her out. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d read Arin similarly.

“Evalin!” I mimicked my mother’s voice, accent and all. “We didn’t raise you in a barn! Clean up your messes!” I’d heard that exact line too many times to count, I realized, laughing a little at the memories of flour coating the kitchen, or pine bristles littering the living room floor. Still smiling, I sighed, readying myself to hear similar lines from her in the upcoming week. She’d have plenty, especially given the company, I was sure.

“Well, with my mom it used to be quite the opposite.” He chuckled. “Too much cleaning on my part.”

That made a lot of sense, given how particular he had been about the way he had placed the books I’d given him, and the book he had had when we kissed in the library, on the desk and table respectively, lining up the edges both times. Looking back on it, I couldn’t help but wonder if that had anything to do with the deeper issues he had alluded to earlier.

I was thinking too far into this. Shaking my head, I replied, “I’d like to think I’m tidy and organized, but my mother always seemed to walk into the kitchen right as I had made a mess, before I could clean it.”

It was true, I thought. My desk, my books, and my notes, especially, were all organized and color-coded, lined up in alphabetical order. I didn’t think well in messes. A cluttered house led to a cluttered mind. Even my room here was tidy, my books all lined up on my desk, against the wall, the rest of the space bare save for a single vase of daffodils and my laptop.

“My mother always seems to be the one making the messes,” he responded, heading towards the door.

“You balance each other out, then.” I smiled, inclining my head to the side a bit as I followed after him, taking a few larger strides to make up the distance between us. “I always used to organize my father’s books, in his study, when I was little. He used to just leave them everywhere -“ I shook my head, chuckling as I remembered the mess of books and papers that usually littered his desk “- and it made me feel important, like I was his assistant.”

“A brave man,” Arin notes as he walked out into the hall. “I’ve never been the biggest fan of people touching my stuff.”

I followed him out, taking up a spot at his side as we walked, still thinking about my family. “That's one way to put it, though I think my grandfather referred to him as, ‘a fool who loves his children too much,’ instead.”

It wasn’t as if my grandfather didn’t love us, or my father, either. He took us sailing and swimming every summer for the first fourteen years of my life, keeping us all with him and my grandmother in their little cabin in Tromsø. Us kids would get into so much trouble, those days. The sun didn’t set that far north in the summer, so there was seemingly no end to the amount of havoc we could cause, or antics we could pull. We only slept when we were physically too tired to stay awake. We’d push each other off my grandfather’s boat, ask him to stop on the side of the road so we could look at the goats - the possibilities each given day were endless.

I really wished the recent conflict with Swendway didn’t exist.

To my side, Arin sucked in a breath, sharply. “I’m not sure I could ever love any child that much.”

I looked at him with a soft smile, not entirely sure how to respond to that. Was he trying to have a talk about wanting children with me? We weren’t anywhere near that point. He was still technically dating seven other girls.

Unless this was his way of narrowing down his dating pool?

“Everybody has limits, I think, they’re just different for different people,” I decided aloud. “My father loved us a lot, but there were still certain lines we couldn’t cross. The attic was completely off limits to us kids, for instance, and he wouldn’t answer a lot of questions about his childhood, and there were times he’d lock us out of his study. He didn’t do any of that because he loved us any less. He’s simply still a person with his own feelings, concerns, comfort zones, and needs for privacy, with or without children in the picture.” I concluded with a small shrug, hoping my response might do something to assuage his worries about parenthood.

He looked pensive as we continued to walk, the hallways practically empty at this hour. “Maybe, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be that man. I know it’s expected, but I can’t really see it.”

I hadn’t considered it like that. Sure, I had always pictured having children in the future, but it was always a choice. I could choose - and likely would choose, if I was being completely honest with myself - to work, and not have children. Arin, however, didn’t have that luxury. He’d have to provide an heir.

As would his wife.

“You’ve got time yet,” I assured him. There shouldn’t be any rush - on him, or his wife, whoever that would end up being. We were all young - anywhere between nineteen and twenty-four. Time was in our favor, as Mélanie had said. “A lot can change in a few years.”

“I guess.” He pursed his lips. “Yeah.”

He had to become a father, and he thought he would be a bad one. I didn’t envy his situation, even as I continued to rationalize it in my mind. I felt my gaze soften as I looked at him, my voice quieter when I spoke again. “I think that the fact that you’re even worried about it means that you wouldn’t be the worst father out there.”

“Well, that’s good to hear considering I don’t have much choice in the matter.” He stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking up towards the top, as if there may the answers to the many challenges he faced.

“Arin,” I started, stopping beside him, and looking at him out of the corner of my eye. I’d have to be careful in choosing my next words. Walking barefoot, avoiding shards of glass. I could do that. “What would your ideal future look like, if you had a choice?”

“Maybe I’d be a professor or something like that,” he answered, still looking towards the top of the stairs. “I don’t know.”

“I could see that, actually,” I answered honestly. It was almost too easy to picture him at the front of a lecture hall, talking passionately about a topic related to history, or maybe politics. I grabbed his hand, giving him another soft smile, about to tell him just that, before I stopped myself. It was better left alone. He already had said that he didn’t like to consider hypothetical scenarios, if they weren’t realistic.

“Thank you,” he replied, squeezing my hand, “even if we both know that wouldn’t happen.”

“What would you teach?” The question left my mouth before I could stop myself. I stiffened, knowing I had fucked this up again. He was going to get so upset.

Arin shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to think too much about it because I won’t be able to do it.”

“No, that makes sense.” I looked down, my smile falling. I paused, debating what to say, if there was anything I could say to make this better, but instead, I just started thinking out loud. “Growing up - especially with my father being a biology professor - all I ever thought I would do was biology. I didn’t even question it, to be honest. Now, though, seeing that there are other things out there -“ I shook my head “- I don’t really have a plan, and I’m used to planning my life down to the second.”

“And now?” He glanced over at me.

I shrugged, still looking down at that bottom step. “Like I said, I have no plan.” I hesitated, taking a breath before continuing. “I mentioned it before, I think, but I had a pretty big falling out with the professor that I used to work under, and it ended in her more or less saying that she’d put in a negative review of me at every biology-related job I applied to in the future. I don’t doubt her, either. She’s very well known and respected in the field. So, I’m not sure yet.” I looked over at him, shrugging, though the motion was almost minute. I wasn’t ready to tell him about my applications to the Swendish universities, even though that was my most likely backup plan at this point. Something told me that the idea wouldn’t go over well with him.

“Did you speak with the dean like I suggested?”

“I sent an email, but got no response,” I answered, shaking my head. “So, I’ll just have to make up my biochem lab some other time.” I did my best to offer him a smile, but my mouth ended up in more of a straight line. When was, “some other time”? Would there even be another opportunity for me to finish my degree, if I ended up winning this? Surely there must be - Arin himself had completed college, after all. I’d likely just have to finish my degree at Angeles University then.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry. Maybe you could what AU has to offer for the fall?”

“No need to apologize. It’s not like any of this is your fault.” I shook my head, already way ahead of him. AU offered the lab I needed, but it wasn’t realistic at the moment. It was a nice idea, though. I looked up, my smile a bit more genuine this time. “I’ve considered it, though - AU, I mean. I’m just not sure if I have enough time in the day.”

He nodded in the direction of the stairs. “Well, is there anything that can be done to lighten your schedule?”

No, basically everything I do is mandatory. Run. Breakfast. Lessons. Lunch. School work. Dinner. More school work. Attempt to sleep. Fail miserably.

Did AU offer midnight biochem labs?

I laughed a little jokingly, my brain to mouth filter switched off, apparently. “Maybe if I stopped fretting over making everything I do as close to perfect as possible…” I trailed off, wishing I could die along with my poor excuse of a joke. Great, now he’ll probably be even more concerned.

“I’ll consider it further, though,” I relented, looking down. “The one plan I do have as of right now is to at least finish my degree.”

After that, everything was up in the air. Maybe I could leave here and go right to Swendway, get an apartment, some plants, and maybe even a dog, like I had always imagined. I could meet someone, settle down, and potentially start a family, if our lifestyles allowed for it. Alternatively, I could stay in Angeles, and find an apartment here, or just fully transfer to AU, and live in a dorm. At this point, I was close with almost all the girls who were still here. It’d be nice to have friends nearby, to be able to see them all on holidays, or just for fun.

What if I win? That was still a possibility. I could try and finish out my degree, marry Arin, and then what? Be forced to produce an heir? No, I understood completely where Arin was coming from on that issue - I wasn’t ready to consider that yet. Maybe once I was twenty-five, or even older. I had just fallen apart eighteen ways to Sunday, admitted to not sleeping, and to being a workaholic - not exactly prime mother material, if you asked me. I’d need time, and it seemed he did too, if not more.

“I like that plan,” he said with a smile, beginning to lead me up the stairs. “You should do what you want to do, even if you don’t know what that is yet.”

“So I’ve been told,” I shot back, biting my lip as I followed him up the stairs. Then, quieter, I added, “You should, too.”

He remained silent as we made our way to the top of the stairs, making no move to acknowledge what I had said. I followed, staying one step behind him until we reached the top of the stairs. This man’s insistence that he deserves only the worst is going to prematurely give me grey hairs. I came to a stop, tugging on his hand, which I was still holding, in an attempt to get him to look at me. I couldn’t fix him - no one person could. That wasn’t my job. Only he held the keys to bettering himself. At the same time, I couldn’t stand by and say nothing.

He stopped, his eyes meeting mine as he looked at me over his shoulder. Now was my chance. I kept my face serious, but my tone as light as I could, given the context. “Look, you said it yourself - I’m not beyond hope. Don’t forget that you aren’t, either.”

“I’m working on it,” he replied, nodding, “but right now it doesn’t feel that way.”

A familiar cracking feeling spread through my chest, and I didn’t know whether I wanted to cry or hug him as tightly as I could, and let him know that it’d be alright. Both of those options felt wrong, though, like he wouldn’t interpret their meaning in the same way I did. I settled instead for simply squeezing his hand. “It takes time, but -” I nodded once, offering him a small smile “-it’s possible.”

I was fifteen, just a girl, in my high school AP Calculus classroom, crying over the grade I had just received on our last exam. It wasn’t good enough. It was never good enough. I was a disappointment, a failure, even, regardless of whether or not the grade was a passing grade. There would always be somebody better than me, more worthy of being here than I was.

“Evalin,” my teacher had said, slowly stepping around her desk towards me, “it’s one bad grade. It’s not the end of the world.”

I looked up, frantically wiping away the tears that I couldn’t stop from coming. “It’s not good enough. I could have done better - I shouldn’t even be in this class, if this is the best I can do.”

“Evalin,” she had repeated, taking a seat in the desk next to me, now empty since the lunch bell had rung, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but please, don’t worry about it. You’re doing fine in this class.”

I shook my head. “‘Fine’ isn’t good enough! My parents…” I trailed off. They had access to my grades online, and likely already knew how bad I had done. I could picture them discussing it right now, sharing their disappointment, their disgust, their anger. I had big shoes to fill, and I was failing miserably.

“What did you get on this exam, again?” My teacher looked over my shoulder, peeking at her own red handwriting on my paper. “Oh, Evalin, that’s not even a bad grade! An A-minus in this class is something most students would kill for!”

Was she crazy? “It’s not an A.”

She smiled a bit as she shook her head, exhaling heavily through her nose, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How about this - do me a favor, okay? Take the night off. I’m not collecting your homework assignment. In fact, I’m giving you a new assignment!” She stood up, shaking her head, placing her hands on her hips. “Do something relaxing, something fun - play a game, binge a TV show, watch something funny on Y’allTube. Be a teenager, for once.”

“I have other homework to do.” I shook my head as I hurriedly began packing my books, slinging my bag over my shoulder. The walls were closing in on me. I needed to leave. I couldn’t get out of this room fast enough.

“You’re clipping your own wings before you ever even have the chance to fly,” she called after me as I made my way to the door. “There’s more to life than just school, you know?”

“I need to get into college,” was all I said in reply before leaving.

It had taken me far too long to realize how right she had been. “There are better days ahead.”

I was twenty, almost twenty-one. I was here, walking the halls of the palace with the prince. I still wasn’t perfect - I never would be - but I was good enough to make it this far. The Elite. I was part of the Elite, and I had earned my spot here.

He chucked as we continued on down the hallway. “My standards are low, don’t worry.”

“Why does that make me worry more?” I grumbled, my smile turning into a frown.

“I didn’t mean it like that -” his expression was nothing short of surprised as he looked over at me “- just my expectations aren’t high.”

That’s the same idea, just worded differently, Arin. I raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile returning to my face once more. “You know that doesn’t sound much better, right?”

“I don’t know, Evalin,” he sighed. “It’s just the way I see things, I guess.”

He was a pessimist, then. No surprise there, honestly, so why was I frowning in disappointment? “No, I get that,” I assured him, shrugging a little. I was getting a clearer picture, a sharper image, of who Arin was now, pieces clicking into place as I put the puzzle together. Hugo had been right on two counts - Arin was complex, and I wanted to know the details.

“Right now I take things one day at a time, personally,” he continued as we neared my room, “but as the heir it’s a much bigger picture I have to look at.”

Naturally. Politics was a game of chess that I was only just beginning to understand as I scratched the surface of it. I had only seen the tip of the iceberg, as of right now, but I was certain that the lurking underside of this world would become clearer as my time here went on - and it would go on. Arin seemed content to keep me around for a while, or at least long enough to meet his Amma, when she returned in a couple of weeks. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Of course,” I replied with a nod. “Our actions now affect the future. That logic applies in any field.” The butterfly effect, I believed my father had once referred to it as. If we kill a butterfly now, it could change the entire course of the future, just as doing cancer research now could lead to a cure in the future, or how implementing a social welfare program now could benefit the lives of Illéan citizens in the future. It made perfect sense.

He nodded as I turned my head to look at him, his eyes distant. He was lost in thought once again. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, clearing away any notifications without even looking at them. They could wait. Right now, I had other goals in mind. Immediately upon unlocking my phone, I opened the contacts app, clicking the “add contact” button, and extending the phone towards Arin. “Sorry if this is too forward, but can I have you number? Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course! It’s just, the whole sending notes thing is nice, but kind of impractical, when you think about it -” I shrugged, not really sure what I was saying, at this point, my mouth moving, compelled by a mind of it’s own “- and I promise I’m not the type to blow up your phone. In fact, if you ask my family next week, they’ll probably complain about how often I leave people on ‘read’.”

He blinked once before nodding. “Oh, yeah.”

Maybe I really should think less.

He took my phone from my hand, quickly typing in a string of numbers before handing it back to me. “Here you go.”

I smiled, quickly opening up my messages app and starting a new thread.

Evalin: Evalin :)

Delivered 3:58am

There, now we both had each other’s numbers. I wasn't sure what had compelled me to ask him, but it had just felt right. It was a gut instinct, I supposed. I should learn to act on those sometimes, instead of planning my every move down to the millisecond. Satisfied with the outcome of my request, I locked my phone and slid it back into my pocket, stopping as we reached my door. So, this was it, then.

I turned around, my back to the door as I faced him. “Thank you, Arin.”

“Of course,” he replied with a smile and a nod. Then, laughing, he added, “No more notes, I guess.”

“No,” I agreed, a grin slowly spreading across my face as I laughed along with him. “I suppose I'll have to take care not to rip the old ones.” I sighed a bit more dramatically than the situation called for, but something about it was easy, fun. It was unlike so much else, these days.

I looked at my door for a second before meeting his gaze again. “Can I give you a hug, before we part ways?” I wasn’t quite ready for a kiss goodnight - not yet, not when I knew the same dream would likely rear its ugly head once I fell asleep, if I even fell asleep at all, but a hug - I could do that.

“Oh, sure.” He chuckles, opening his arms and standing still, looking at me expectantly.

I went for it, wrapping my arms around him and holding on for a few seconds, taking in the feeling of it all, and putting it someplace special in my memory, for easy access in the future. I almost hated how right it felt. He was still seeing seven other girls. He still clearly had some kind of feelings for Felicity. Yet, here I was, so sure of us as I stood in his arms.

I let go, smiling as I looked at him. My feelings were my issue to sort out, and he was already working out his own. Maybe we’d fall together, or maybe we wouldn’t. Either way, I was certain we were both on the right path, right now.

“Goodnight, Arin. Get some sleep, will you?”

“I can’t make any promises.” He laughed a little at first, before looking down at me with a sad smile.

I came to the conclusion then that we were both just procrastinating on attempts at sleep that we knew would ultimately fail, too wrapped up in our own thoughts to let ourselves rest. I exhaled through my nose, looking at him a tad sadly as I put my hand on the doorknob of my room. “At least try?”

We could both at least try.

“I -” he paused, then nodded solemnly “-okay. You try too?”

I repeated his own actions, hesitating for a second before nodding, the ghost of a smirk flickering across my face. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“You should let me know if that tea works out, because if so, I may have to give it a try,” he replied, smirking ever so slightly.

I wasn’t so sure it would, at this point, but nonetheless I responded, “Well, if I’m not at breakfast in the morning, then there’s your answer.” I leaned back against my door, one hand still firmly gripping the doorknob, but not yet turning it. It appeared that even despite telling each other to sleep, we were both still intent on procrastinating doing just that.

“If you’re not down by lunch, I may have to head up the search party,” he retorted, laughing at his own joke.

“Yeah,” I laughed along, shaking my head, “if I’m not awake by then, something is seriously wrong.”

“Or maybe you’re just having some good dreams,” he teased, his smirk growing as he spoke.

I was unable to stop myself from snorting and rolling my eyes, before smirking right back at him. This man was going to be the death of me, I swore. “Maybe it’s just a replay of you falling while roller skating, on loop.”

“That’s the best dream you can come up with where I’m the star?” He raised his eyebrows at me.

I hummed thoughtfully for a moment, sarcastically tapping my index finger against my lips as I considered it. “I suppose sitting on the floor at the ballet theater is a close second, or maybe the kiss in the library.”

Lukas’s lips on mine, too strong, all wrong.

No.

Arin’s lips on mine, hesitant, soft, as if he was waiting for confirmation that he wasn’t going too far.

Just the difference between him and Lukas alone left me baffled as to how he could think he was a bad person.

He raised his eyebrows even further. “Is that so?”

We were in this for the long haul, I realized, taking my hand off the doorknob and crossing my arms, all the while smirking back at Arin. “Well, it’s hard to have a bad dream about something so enjoyable.”

“I’d still argue that I don’t find the ballet pleasurable,” he shot back, tilting his head to the side a bit.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Not even the intermission?” When we sat together on the floor, my head on your shoulder, your head on mine, side by side, hands locked together.

“The ballet itself? Not likely.”

Was he dumb? I rolled my eyes, smiling a bit even as my frustration mounted. “And yet, I recall you sitting through it for a certain girl in blue.”

“I did.” He nodded. “And maybe I’d do it again.”

He would, if I asked. I knew it without even having to think for more than a second. It was just the kind of person he was, at least around me. I wondered if it was different for the other girls, or if he treated us all as if we were equals.

Entertaining that thought made me feel gross, slimy, sick to my stomach. I let it drop, instead inclining my head to the side a bit, and replying, “She might like to sit next to you again sometime, like you did on the floor. I think she also mentioned wanting to kiss you again, at some point.”

Was I ready to go there, right now? I wasn’t sure. Oh, God, what was I saying? I should’ve ducked into my room when I had had the chance, and spared myself the misery.

He raised his eyebrows at me, and rightly so. “Did she? A lot has happened since then and I’m not sure she feels that way still.”

This was my chance. I could change my tune.

Some part of me didn’t want to, though. The kiss with Arin had been different, kinder and softer, than anything I had felt before. I wanted to enjoy the sensation of kissing and being kissed again. I didn’t want Lukas to ruin that for me, and yet my mind kept going back to the same place - his lips on my lips, his fingers on my chest.

It was as if I could feel them now. My heart rate quickened, even as I answered, “She did,” with an affirming nod. “You might have to ask her first, though.”

I was just in the mood to make bad decisions while sober, it seemed.

“Well,” he began, swallowing once, “asking is very important.”

I just nodded, not trusting myself to say anything in response, even if I could find the words. I wanted to kiss him - had wanted to kiss him again for a long time. A dumb part of me wondered if kissing him would help me forget about Lukas, though I already knew every therapist I had ever seen would tell me that that was the wrong answer.

I had never liked therapy, though.

He glanced down the hall in both directions, taking a tiny step forward as his gaze settled on me again. We were doing this, then. Fuck my old therapists. I grinned back at him, pushing myself off of my bedroom door so that I was standing in front of him, my arms still crossed as I looked up at him. “Have any questions?”

“Many,” he answered, raising his eyebrows as he peered back down at me, “but I always do.”

Well, fuck, me too. I raised an eyebrow back at him in response. “Such as?”

“Where eels come from, and why eagles used to be Illéa’s national animal.”

I snorted. Smartass. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to keep myself in check before replying. “I’m afraid I can’t answer either of those, unfortunately.”

“The world may never know,” he replied with a small smile.

I shook my head. “A true tragedy.”

I uncrossed my arms then, beginning to reach up, intending to place my arms on his shoulders, my hands on his back. Something stopped me in my tracks though, leaving my arms hovering in midair. Would doing that make him uncomfortable, like he was pushing me too far? He wasn’t. I wanted to do it. He couldn’t know that, though. He couldn’t read minds.

He blinked, his expression almost surprised, though his voice was soft as he said my name. “Evalin.”

I sucked it up. “Are you okay with this?” My hands were still hovering in midair. “Because I wouldn’t be in this situation if I wasn’t.”

“I think so.” He nodded. “Are you?”

“Yes.” My answer was more sure of itself than I was, but I rolled with it anyway, reaching my hands up over his shoulders, lacing my fingers together behind his neck.

I could feel his pulse quickening as he looked down at me again, mumbling my name once more. “Evalin.”

I smirked back up at him. “Yes, Arin?”

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice a bit softer now.

I smiled back at him, looking into his eyes. “How nice this is. How I like being close to you.” I felt a faint blush start to spread across my cheeks, my voice softer too as I added, “How I kind of want to kiss you.”

He swallowed. “And what if you did?”

Was he nervous? It sure sounded like it.

I inclined my head a bit, still looking up at him. “Would you be okay with that?”

“Yes,” he answered with a nod, stepping a little bit closer.

I smiled. “Good.” With that, I closed the distance between us, leaning in for the kiss.

He kissed back, his lips gentle, soft, as he leaned me backwards until I made contact with my door. I rose to stand on my toes in an attempt to get a better angle. This kiss was longer than our first, but the touch just as feather-light, nothing pressured, nothing forced. Even sandwiched between him and my door, it was clear to me that I could break away whenever I wanted to. I had a choice. I had a say. My voice, my wants, mattered.

He reached up, putting his hand on the side of my face, his palms warm against my cheek. As he leaned down more, I leaned forwards, sliding my arms further over his shoulders and deepening the kiss. In response, his lips parted further, and he ran his fingers through my hair. It was heaven, bliss, euphoria. I could have stayed in that moment forever, my head empty of thoughts, the only sensation his lips on mine, his touch, the rise and fall of his shoulders beneath my forearms.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that. It wasn’t long enough, and yet, even feeling like that, I still was the first to pull away, completely out of breath. I pulled my arms back so that my hands rested on his shoulders, smiling at him as I attempted to catch my breath. If there was one thing I now knew, as he stared back at me, somewhat breathless as well, it was that Arin and Lukas couldn’t be more different.

We stayed like that for a few moments before he asked, “Was that okay?”

My smile only grew. “So much better than okay,” I answered, still a little breathless myself.

He chuckled a little, before responding, “Well, that's good to hear. You were very quiet.”

“Ah, sorry, I was just a little lost in thought - good thoughts, though.” I leaned back into my door a bit, only to feel it slip out from behind me. Either I had turned the doorknob when my hand had been on it earlier, or I hadn’t closed the door all the way when I had initially left my room. Regardless, I stumbled backwards, frantically trying to catch my balance. I would not let this night end with me falling on my ass in front of him.

Arin let out a noise of surprise, his arm quickly reaching out in my direction. He managed to wrap his fingers around my wrist in the knick of time, tugging me back upright as gently as he possibly could, given the circumstances. I just stared at his hand on my wrist, taking in the sensation of his fingers on my skin, blushing as I straightened up again and looked around the hallway. Luckily, it was still empty, save for us.

“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat. “Right, so, I suppose this is really goodnight, then.”

How many times had we already said goodnight to each other now? Did the word even hold any meaning to us anymore?

“I think so,” he agreed, pulling his hand back and nodding, before glancing between me and my door. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered, a smirk forming as I spoke. “I guess we’re even now, now that I’ve almost fallen in front of you.”

He simply laughed. “Try not to fall on your way to bed.”

“I’ll do my best,” I assured him with a nod, grinning as I took a few steps into my room. I stopped when I grabbed the doorknob, turning back to look at him before adding, “Go get some sleep, Arin.”

“Some other time,” he replied with a smile, taking a few steps back.

This man was going to be the death of me. “Arin.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You need sleep, too.”

He shrugged, then gave me a small smile. “Sometimes.”

“Am I going to have to go full big-sister mode on you, and tuck you into bed to get you to get some sleep?” I narrowed my eyes at him, remembering how I had done the same exact thing for Randall in the past. “Because with what’s coming up in the next week or so, now, I am more than prepared to do that.”

“Big sister mode?” He blinked once. “Are you sure?”

Well, I had been hoping you would have more common sense, and it wouldn’t come to this. I rolled my eyes. “My point is - sleep!”

He just shrugged. “We’ll see.”

I was so close to losing it on him, but I kept myself together. Narrowing my eyes at him, I slowly began to close my door, throwing in one last “Goodnight,” just for good measure.

“Goodnight.”

I watched him take a few steps backwards before I shut my door completely, hoping that for once he might actually take my advice.

It was five-forty in the morning when Harald walked into the office. An earlier start than usual to his day, certainly, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already missed out on something important as he made his way to the door, clocking in. On the far wall, his daughter’s friend, Lukas, was hanging up the phone with a loud sigh. Was he really even his daughter’s friend, anymore? Even after everything that Harald had witnessed last fall, she still seemed to consider him one, and yet, before she had left home three months ago, he had pulled into the driveway just in time to see her shove Lukas off their front porch. He knew that he shouldn’t have been as proud to witness that as he had been. Violence was never the answer - his own father had drilled that into him often, when he was a boy - but the occurrence served as a nice reminder that his daughter would be able to handle herself just fine.

“Good morning, Mr. Bernhardsen,” Harald offered by way of greeting, watching the boy tense up as he took his hand off the receiver.

“Dr. Berg.” Lukas inclined his head in greeting, his hands clasped behind his back as he smiled. “How are you?”

Harald ignored the question. He didn’t deal in pretty niceties, especially not where people like Lukas were concerned. They were a waste of time. Instead, he inclined his head towards the receiver. “Rough call?”

Lukas just shook his head, chuckling. “Just a particularly enthusiastic solicitor. Nothing exciting.”

The only thing that kept Harald from saying anything in response as he nodded was the hope that if he remained silent, Lukas might leave. Luck seemed to be in his favor that day, because within moments, the boy had exited the room, striding across the hall into Proctor’s office. They really were a perfect match as a mentor and mentee, and he didn’t mean that just because he wasn’t particularly fond of either of them. He had a sneaking suspicion that their goals outside of the lab aligned as well as their goals inside the lab did.

As soon as Lukas had fully vanished into the room across the hall, Harald made his way over to the landline, dialling a familiar code. It wasn’t a well known fact amongst the interns, but all calls to and from the biology department’s general landline were recorded for quality assurance. It was written into a contract that all interns had to sign at the beginning of the semester. Not that any members of the younger generation really read those contracts anymore. They could have signed their lives away without ever really knowing.

The recording began, Lukas’s voice ringing through the phone, loud and clear, and as grating as ever. “Hello, Evalin. Always good to hear from you first thing in the morning. What brings you to the office landline today?”

Evalin. His daughter had called? Why?

Something was wrong.

A man on the other end of the line cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Berg.”

Harald knew that voice. He had heard it on the television often. The prince.

Why had Prince Arin called the biology department to speak with him, using his daughter’s phone? Were they together? He checked his watch. It would be two-forty in the morning in Angeles right now. What were they doing together at two-forty in the morning? Harald didn’t like the images that were coming to mind.

“Ah, reverting to looking through cell phones, now.” Lukas clucked his tongue. “That’s never a good sign.”

“Actually, I asked Evalin to let me borrow her phone so I could speak with her father,” the prince replied smoothly. “I wanted to touch base with him about his upcoming visit to the palace, since I’m really looking forward to meeting him.”

This reply raised a whole new set of questions. How close had Arin and Evalin grown, in the past few months? The last Harald had heard, the pair had been at each other’s throats while roller skating, arguing about every topic under the sun. That had been months ago, though. It was entirely possible that a lot had changed since then. Or, perhaps the prince was looking forward to meeting him for other reasons. Harald’s frown deepened, his mind wandering towards a box kept in the corner of the attic of his house. Was it finally time for that box to see the light of day once again? Conflicts with Swendway were worsening. It seemed counterintuitive.

Lukas’s reply didn’t wait for Harald to finish his thoughts. “Well, I don’t know why she’d let you call now, since she knows her father won’t be in for another half hour.” There was the sound of some keys clicking, and then, “Hmm, looks like he hasn’t put in for any time off in the upcoming weeks, either. Unfortunate. He must not reciprocate your feelings. Do you still want me to take a message?”

Oh, shoot. He still had to do that. He’d do it immediately after he was done listening to this call. He’d been so excited at the prospect of seeing his daughter again, that the practical side of preparing to do so had been forgotten.

“Actually, it’s all been arranged with the Dean. It’s a surprise for Ev and her family, so this would be the first time he’s hearing of it, but no message is needed. I’ll get his direct number from her.”

Two more concerns were raised by this message. The first being the usage of the nickname, “Ev,” for Evalin. If she really was there with him - and she must be, because it was her phone being used to make the call - that meant she was okay with it. She must have been very comfortable around the prince, then. Their relationship must have improved since the time they had gone roller skating. Harald wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but the thought did make him a little uneasy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his daughter to be happy - that was all he had ever wanted, really - but in a practical sense, their relationship likely wouldn’t last. She wasn’t the only girl he was dating. It was a recipe for heartbreak.

The second concern was that no call had been made to his cell, as of yet, which meant the prince must have lied. What else was he lying about?

Harald had a bad feeling about this entire situation.

“Ah,” Lukas replied, “I see. Well, I don’t know why you didn’t just start with that. Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything else you want to know?”

“I didn’t start with that because I don’t believe it pertains to you,” the prince answered sharply. “This is between me, Ev, and her family, so nothing else is needed from you.”

“Alright, then. Glad to know I’m not needed by you. Have a nice day!”

The call ended abruptly after that. That must have been when Harald had entered the room. He exhaled heavily, knowing this spelled out nothing but trouble. He reached into his pocket, taking out his cellphone, and clicking on the contact, “Goose.”

It went directly to voicemail. He tried a second time, only to get the same result. After the third time, he gave up, accepting that he wasn’t going to get a response. He debated leaving a message, but ultimately decided against it. He was going to see his daughter in a week anyway. He could reassess the situation then.

He only hoped the prince was as eager to talk as he claimed to be. Harald had some questions, and needed some answers. He had to assess the situation, and prepare for the damages to come - and they would come, more likely than not. Even Evalin herself had to realize that.

His sweet little girl, who saw the good in everyone and everything, was in love with a prince who had already broken off one engagement, and didn’t seem particularly enthused about entering in another. Harald had let her do this to herself. Now he just needed to see how badly he had messed up, and what he could do to fix it. After all, the important thing about mistakes wasn’t how big they were, but rather how you handled them after the fact. That was the most important lesson he had learned as a father.

Harald had made many mistakes over the course of his life, but the solution had always been the same. Watch, assess, set a new plan.

That was exactly what he would do now.

#selectionoc

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the-silver-peahen-residence · 4 years

Text

||Small talk||

I don’t understand people when it comes to this site. So, time for a small chat. If you don’t wish to read this, you can skip but if you are still reading, rest is under read more.

So....

I’ve been getting anons for a while saying how I shouldn’t be on here anymore. It’s kinda getting annoying to hear it when someone tells me the usual thing or the same thing I hear almost twice a week. The same thing being:

“You are way too old to be on tumblr.”

“You don’t see a lot of 30+ Roleplayers here. Younger ones are always on here not older ones..”

“Your grammar isn’t the best. I suggest leaving the site to work on your child writing..”

“You may have changed your info and blog but your still doing the same shit.”

“30+ rpers shouldn’t be on tumblr. It’s creepy and weird. Don’t you have other things to do?”

~Okay, I get it. True, I haven’t been active and I really want to think of something to do to make this more enjoyable. However, with all this going on and getting questions telling me how I do things, their going to make me want to just leave/delete my blog or start over. So, lets try to answer these questions one by one.

1) “You are way too old to be on Tumblr.”

~So? Anyone can be on this site to have fun, express themselves, rp, be creative etc. Yeah, I may be 31 years old but I come on here to get away from real life and have fun. I love Rping even with my bad grammar but I want to improve it. I don’t get many rps because most of my partners are either busy with their lives, or doing their own thing while having fun here or off the site.

2)”You don’t see a lot of 30+ roleplayers here. Younger ones are always on here not older ones.”

~Okay? I’ve seen many that’s younger than me or young adults. They are always here having fun like the rest. I know others that’s older or to their 30+ are on here too. It’s a free site to do what you want. You shouldn’t make rules to only having younger Rpers on here. Everyone can be on here.

3) Your grammar isn’t the best. I suggest leaving the site to work on your child writing.”

~Geez, if that was the case I would have deleted the blog years ago. Or not. -_- there is a thing called improvement you know. I’m not trying to aim to be the best or become popular. I’m trying to improve myself as best as I can and I do that by rping with my partners because they help me and still have fun. I don’t want this to be some stupid chore but an activity I enjoy for myself and self health. I get bad days from work and life so coming here helps. My grammar is shit I know but that isn’t stopping me to improve. Even by a little baby bit.

4)”You may change your info and blog but your still doing the same shit.”

~I’m trying to work on getting more confident in following other amazing people but sometimes I read the rules on their blog. I’ve seen a few that say OC’s are welcome but their private or very selective. I try to follow their rules and not bother them. I don’t want to be a bother for them. As I said before, I’m taking it slow in order to try and get better. I know I changed my blog, updated a few things but I’m working on it.

5)“30+ rpers shouldn’t be on tumblr. It’s creepy and weird. Don’t you have other things to do?”

`How is being 30+ on tumblr creepy and weird? We are not allowed to be on here just to have fun and bring our ideas to life here? Is this just a younger-young adults only site? No..it’s a free site as I said before. I do have other things to do but I enjoy other things too. I play video games, watch anime sometimes if I like, wanting to opening up and try new things. Maybe even try new ideas like crossovers and stuff on here. I come on here mostly or play video games because their an escape from things in life.

So....yeah, i may not be active and I may not send replies right now because I don’t want to bug them. I see posts where others leave starter posts or asked if any wishes to Rp with them? I always want to try to write and ask but I stop because of my fear. I don’t want to bug them or do something stupid to ruin that chance. I know my ideas are not the best, I know I’m not as good as others I’ve seen here but you know what?

It’s okay.

I hope one day I’ll get more confident in wanting to ask and talk to the amazing followers I have here. I want to know more about them and hope we can be good friends/partners. To the ones I do write with; I’m sorry my replies are fast or not as good. I’m sorry I’m doing the same shit as before. Same for the grammar and wrong wording.

Sorry to the ones I’ve followed recently or for a while not without sending you anything. My fears are stopping me from wishing to speak to you. I’m going to do what I can in hopes of being better. If not.......well, we’ll see.

Anyway, thanks for reading if you did.

Silver butterfly mun/peahen mom

#OOC #Mun randomness #Mun talk #I had to get this off my chest #Sorry for this being long #Silver butterfly mun #Peahen mom

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blackasteriia · 5 years

Note

🔥 story structure bih

Feed the Fires of my Salt

I jumped into Kingdom Hearts right after KH3 came out. I had the privilege of watching the series’ cutscenes from beginning-to-end, starting with the KHUX back cover and ending in KH3. This is a very confusing way to enter Kingdom Hearts. The start of the story is in KHUX and the beginning is in KH1. It’s KH1 that introduces the core mechanics, themes, and principles of the story. Yet, the story starts in KHuX, which is a mobile game. The KHuX itself is a baffling mess with too many twists for me to even bother tracking it. For the purpose of this essay I’ll focus on Sora’s story, he’s the protagonist after all.

Kingdom Hearts 1 begins medias res, ‘into the middle of things.’ It doesn’t know that. It thinks it’s a straightforward story and probably the best told one in all of Kingdom Hearts. Sora and his friends live a normal life. He has a call to action when his island falls into darkness and he losses his friends. To find his friends he must travel through several worlds. On the course of this journey he learns of Kingdom Hearts. He then meets Ansem, the antagonist who believes that all people and things belong to the darkness. Sora takes all that he has learned to confront Ansem. Ansem is defeated and Sora’s journey comes to a close. It’s a simple story but it is effective, charming, and fun.

Then, Sora loses all his memories in a random castle through an event that he does not remember, he wakes-up after sleeping a full year, and we go into Kingdom Hearts 2.

Kingdom Hearts 2, is another hero’s journey. Sora seeks guidance from the wise Yen Sid, a mentor archetype we most often find in stories of this type. Yen Sid informs Sora that he must defeat Organization 13, an insidious group seeking to obtain Kingdom Hearts. This bunch isn’t as straightforward as Ansem was. They’re manipulative, and also, very human, with their own quirks and personalities, some even befriending Sora. The series delves into a more mature grey than the pure black and white of KH1. Sora learns that light and dark aren’t clear-cut concepts, but to accept the complexity of himself, and others. Sora defeats Xemnas and returns to Destiny Island with his friends, concluding his journey.

In Dream Drop Distance, Sora and Riku undergo training by Yen Sid to become keyblade masters, which is very important. Sora must unlock the power of waking by *shuffles notes* freeing seven sleeping keyholes, in the realm of sleep. Okay, yeah, anyway he does that. Then this Xehanort guy --who the hell is this guy? He was in Birth by Sleep. Wait, what?-- kidnaps him and tries to possess him so he can fill out the ranks of Organization 13-- Didn’t we kill all of them in the last game? No, they came back. Then why bother killing them off?-- But he’s saved by Axel --who died in the last game-- and Riku. Anyway, this is apparently grounds for failure and Sora does not become a keyblade master.

In Kingdom Hearts 3, Sora embarks on an adventure to unlock the power of waking by traveling through the worlds and training to become stronger. Didn’t he already beat like, three series antagonists by now why does he need to grow stronger??? Sora is confronted by the members of the Real Organization 13, who taunt him as he travels. Sora gathers the Seven Guardians of Lights and defeats Xehanort and the Real Organization 13. He returns to Destiny Island with his friends and concludes his story by vanishing into a burst of light.

And that, from beginning to end, is Sora’s journey through the Kingdom Hearts series. I skipped a lot of details. I didn’t include side games. I told it as Sora experienced it. Here’s a few things I noticed:

1). There’s a lot of start and stops. The series has three endings. The end of Kingdom Hearts 1, Kingdom Hearts 2, and Kingdom Hearts 3, are all satisfying stop-points for the series. This makes sense, as Nomura, for the most part, intended them to be endings. Of course, he leaves some running threads to intrigue and hint at another game. It means that Sora has his powers reset twice and he begins another hero journey three times. The goals never change: train, grow stronger, beat-up bad guy, go home. Sora never grows past the dumb kid that picked-up a giant key in KH1 and started swinging, or any growth he does develop is reset.

2). The side games are useless. I can tell Sora’s story without Birth by Sleep. I can do it without 358/2 Days, Chain of Memories, Re:Coded, and I bet I could kick-out Dream Drop Distance too. Xehanort is the sole character that you need. He is by far the worst antagonist. He shows-up without fanfare and is defeated with little trouble. Ansem and Xemnas both had something to contrast to Sora, some sort’ve dynamic, a personal stake. Xehanort is just a jerk and he needs to be beaten-up.

3). Xehanort is a terrible antagonist. An antagonist is the character that opposes the protagonist. It is the antagonist who the protagonist must overcome in order to complete their journey. Ansem and Sora jostle over the very nature of humans, idealism vs cynicism. Xemnas forced Sora to recognize the complexity of the human condition. Xehanort-- bullies Sora until Sora kicks his ass. Never mind untangling how unbelievably complicated the relationship between Xehanort, Ansem, and Xemnas are. You’d believe that Xehanort would be some culmination of Sora’s journey-- but I’d argue that it’d complete the Sea Salt Trio’s story more to defeat Xehanort, than it does for Sora to do it.

4). Final Fantasy and Disney are window dressing. This game series is supposed to be a crossover between Disney and Final Fantasy. If you read my synopsis, you would not know this. Maleficent in KH1 is the sole character I feel I could’ve added. None of the Final Fantasy characters are on the list or come close to deserving mention. Why do we have the fiftieth Xehanort clone, and not Sephiroth, or anyone else, as a main antagonist? When I watched this series for the first time I did not watch a single Disney World, and I lost nothing for it. About 60-70% of this entire game series is useless, poorly written filler. This becomes worse as it drags on too. There’s some neat character study in KH1 but by KH3, it’s all crap. Instead of using the Disney World’s for character exploration and building plot, they’re usually charmless retellings of the original movie.

5). There are so many useless characters. We don’t need Roxas. Get rid of Xion. Namine, who? Xehanort just needs to go. You can remove Kairi after KH1. Maybe we keep the BBS-trio because we have to have someone fill-out the Guardians of Light in KH3, but I think Terra is expendable. All of the Union Cross cast, gone. After KH2, all of the Organization members are wasted screen time. These characters do not contribute to the main plot and they have no satisfactory, useful, or good character arcs. They’re just here, repeating what we already heard. Axel finished his story in KH2, why is he still here? The entirety of Chain of Memories, 358/2 Days and Re:coded can be removed, and you would lose absolutely nothing. If I was Nomura’s editor, I’d be making judicious use of a red pen on his scripts. Characters that die don’t stay dead, characters that finish their arcs just hang around taking-up space, and characters that shouldn’t be added, are added. Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, trim this down to like, 2-3 games, tops, and you’d have a powerful story. Not a long overwritten piece of absurdity that’s wheezing like a pneumonic horse on its last legs.

6). Dream Drop Distance and Kingdom Hearts 3 are the worst. Sora sets out to complete one task: become a keyblade master, and, he fails. He doesn’t even finish his secondary task, master the power of waking. Kingdom Hearts 3 has no tension, it’s so cut-and-dry, you need about... an hour of the game to know what happened in it. Sora defeated Xehanort, the all important villain, introduced in DDD. It then ends on a stupid cliff hanger. Also, goes to show that Re:Mind was stupid and didn’t help anything or anyone. KH3 had one job, complete all the character arcs introduced in the series in a satisfying way, and it failed on every single account.

How this series tells story is terrible. It’s done through long-winded exposition that is boring and confusing. Somehow, after watching hours of cutscenes and reading all of the additional side material, I still do not know what Kingdom Hearts is supposed to be. Sometimes, it’s the ‘heart of worlds,’ other times it’s a ‘source of wisdom,’ or it’s a ‘source of power,’ or it can just grant Xemnas’ wish like a star, and it looks like Scala Ad Caelum inside, or its the door to the Realm of Darkness. How can it be the name sake of the series and be so poorly defined? The Metal Gear series is just as convoluted as Kingdom Hearts is, but at least I know what a metal gear is.

Nomura can structure a plot. He understands the basics of hero’s journey. Every single game is based on that structure, individually. When tied together, however, they make this weird mass of starts and stops, retcons, wasted time, and poor story telling. I like Sora and I like his story. I would not be here if that was not the case. It’s the same way with Xion. I really like Xion and her story, but she shouldn’t be here. That, or it needs to be written in a way that it matters. This plot stuff isn’t just about the events. It’s about the characters. What happens to them. What do they do. How do they behave. How do they change? Plot happens when characters act. What a bad plot indicates is bad character motivation and action. These characters don’t matter because Nomura didn’t give them backstories, nuanced motivations, real flaws, or meaningful action. So he crams as most information into the dialogue and pretends that counts as a plot.

And it’s not like plot is complicated, shit happens, that’s it. To add in some RP salt? It bothers me when muns says they’re ‘bad at plotting.’ What do you mean you’re bad at plot? Plot happens when our two muses meet and shit happens. Your muse has encountered a wild Xion, what do you do? > Run > Attack > Talk to > Feed. I’m not writing a passive brick here, ya’ll. I want shit to happen. And when I’m slogging through 13 hours of Kingdom Hearts 2 I want shit to happen, and not watch Sora faff about in a Disney world for forty minutes. Why is that so much to ask for?

#hclianthi #✰*✦ This is the idiot speaking ⎧OOC⎫#✰*✦Enjoy your days off! ⎧Memes⎫#salt tw #this series has a stupid amount of dumb charm and i hate it

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 4 years

Text

Shattered Reflections {16}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Previous Chapter: 15. Dejected

A/N: These are my writing partner FOW’s Headcanons/OCs of Hans’ brothers.

16. Oh Brothers

Hans' night was less than pleasant, but he woke as the doctor arrived to tend to his wounds again, and breakfast was brought. His dinner tray remained untouched, but he accepted breakfast.

"Wasn't in the mood." He assured, before anyone could ask about dinner. "I'll take breakfast when company leaves, I'm not accustomed to eating while being observed." He acted as though nothing was wrong and nothing had happened. He had been visibly miserable the night before, but Westergaards were lions, not sheep or mice. He would not express his misery for long. He could not be seen to be weak. He had already allowed for too much weakness. He was determined to stand and walk a bit, even if it hurt. Enough to pace, he hoped, if only gently.

Elsa had trouble falling asleep after her excruciatingly long day, her mind just wouldn't shut off worrying and overthinking, eventually she passed out from exhaustion. Morning arrived too soon, she stayed in bed a little longer than usual, awake or trying her best to stay that way. She couldn't lay there long, she had her duties to attend to and Hans was her main concern. Getting some food in her system helped her feel a little more awake, though she continued to yawn frequently, even if she tried her best to resist it. Shortly after breakfast, she decided she had to go see Hans, or else she would be unable to focus. Arriving at the door of his chamber she hesitated for a moment. The guards had left earlier that morning, after the doctor came to visit and saw Hans was alive and well (maybe he was not the latter, but he was the former at least). Elsa considered knocking, which she'd gotten out of the habit of doing with him. She thought if she'd heard his voice first that would ease her going in, but then she ran the risk of Hans sending her off before she could really get a chance to see him. Elsa took a deep breath and quickly grabbed the door knob and made her way in. What she saw when she entered worried her, he was out of bed and standing or at least trying his hardest to, she knew he'd likely pop his stitches if he overexerted himself before he (or at least his body) was ready, possibly prolonging his recovery more than if he'd just been patient.

Hans adjusted his shirtsleeves, looking out the window thoughtfully.

"Good morning, your Majesty." He remarked, his tone light, but his face more serious than perhaps he ordinarily would have had it. "Don't worry, I'll eat later. I just haven't gotten to it yet. Wanted to get a little more movement. You've no idea how exhausting it is to be unable to move until you are." Though he kept his tone even, he was certainly not moving much, and after a long pause, reached out to steady himself on the wall as he moved carefully back to the bed. It was clear it still hurt significantly, and he wasn't taking any chances he didn't feel he had to. He made it seem like it had nothing to do with Anna or their conversation last night. It seemed he would do all he could to avoid the thought. Elsa was still concerned, especially seeing his serious face. It was obvious moving was a real struggle. She was sure what Anna said had brought about his stubbornness to get out of bed and try to do something . Elsa really wished to scold him for trying to force himself, but knew that might not be the best idea. She sighed heavily.

"I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to be stuck in bed for so long, especially considering you'd almost fully healed and then a surprise attack brought you back to square one," she sympathized. "Just please be careful, we wouldn't want you to strain your body too much before it's better," she cautioned him. Elsa slowly approached him, keeping her distance, but was ready to assist him in a second should he come to stumble.

Hans nodded, and moved back to the bed with slow, firm steps. In spite of his calm and unaffected face, it still looked painful. He sat again and gestured as if to ask her if that made her happy, without his usual sense of humor about it.

"It is a frustration, to not have things to do, or indeed, ways with which to do it. I'd sooner be in chains, at least in those I could walk, stitches, I find, are much more restrictive-- when they aren't snapping. I may have popped one last night, though I forget what I'd done to do that." He certainly didn't forget what would have made him move, just which gesture in particular did that. His conversation was colder than usual, none of his typical good humor or light sarcasm or even his ill-advised self-deprecating remarks. Instead, it seemed fairly clinical.

"I'd just as soon be doing government work. No offense to your wonderful choices of books, but at least I feel productive when I'm reading documents. Not that I'd ordinarily have much to do with anything beyond orders, wanted posters, and shipping papers, but I do have a talent for people, generally." Not always. But then, if he wanted to manipulate Anna a second time, he'd had tactics. He didn't. He very decisively didn't want to show her his scars or throw anything back, when he knew he deserved the harsh words he got. He very specifically didn't mention his conversation with Anna, he didn't want to bring that up again to damage his new day. Better to move on, and get back to himself. Or whatever he assumed himself to be, today. It certainly seemed different from who he was the day before.

Elsa wished to discuss what Anna had said to him last night, and tell him what Kristoff had suggested, that Anna would strike people where it hurt the most without realizing when she was angry, but she didn't mean it. Yet, Hans seemed to want to put what had happened between him and Anna behind him, he was still certainly not his usual self, but much less distant than last night and Elsa didn't wish to sour his mood again. Elsa bit her lip and pondered for a moment.

"Hmm...You know, you might not be able to help with my paperwork directly, per se, but I think there is a way you could assist me and lighten my load. It still involves reading, though, a lot of it actually. I spend a lot of time doing research --too much time actually-- looking for certain bits of information in books, I think it might make my job a whole lot easier if I had someone helping me with the research for me and summarize the information I need. I feel bad loading you with work while you're trying to recover, but if you really desire something to do, you can aid with that --it's not too straining, well maybe mentally-- and it would be much very appreciated," Elsa suggested.

Hans considered the thought a moment, seeming almost distracted from another line of thought.

"I could take on a few of those tasks for you." He agreed, with a more pleasant tone, though he still seemed to be keeping his face uncommonly neutral. "I've just thought of something I could do, as well. The guard staff need retraining. I can start writing out guidance, perhaps a paper test to see where these guards are at. I'll need to talk to Captain Kristofferson, I'm sure he'll visit later. It seems I get a lot of visitors these days. Not that that's a bad thing." He let a little more of his old smile in, at that.

"Thank you, for your visit last night. Brief as it was, it was appreciated." He assured her. He still didn't seem to want to talk about why she visited, just to let her know that he appreciated it all the same. "It seems I should have an inordinate amount of time on my hands while I heal. I'll certainly not be able to train the guard properly if I can't lift a sword. Don't think I wasn't tempted to, but alas, standing is enough to make my stitches complain, I won't chance lifting my arm above my shoulder to claim it from the bureau. Damnable thing about torso injuries-- once you get one, it hurts everywhere." He chuckled a little, wryly. It was true, so far as he could tell.

"Thank you. That sounds like another great idea, if I catch the Captain in the halls first, I'll be sure to ask him to drop by as soon as he can," she nodded. "Oh, of course, I promised you I'd come visit, didn't I? And I'll try my best to keep it," Elsa reassured him with a tender smile. "And no one expects you to exert yourself more than you're able while you're recovering, so please try to take it easy so you can get back to health as soon as possible,"she insisted as she gazed softly into his eyes. She was a bit relieved that Hans was unable to lift his sword or at least was not going to try.

"Ability is a funny thing, your Majesty. We are all able to do much more than we think we are. It's just a matter of how much well-being one is willing to trade for it." He admitted, giving a casual shrug. "But, her Majesty would be unhappy if I got injured again. Therefore," He gave an exaggerated shrug. "I have no choice but to simply get better." There, at least, was a hint of his playfulness.

"Perhaps have him wait a half hour or so after you leave. Sooner or later, I ought to get to breakfast." He joked dryly, nodding to the tray. "I imagine you wouldn't be happy if I skipped it again, and I would hate to disappoint." Not for himself, but for her. He didn't seem to care much what happened to himself. But if he truly cared for his health, would he have sailed back into hostile territory in the first place?

Elsa could hear bits of his usual playfulness come back and it eased her, if only a little.

"You're right to assume, her Majesty, would indeed be unhappy," she nodded. So he hadn't eaten his dinner. Maybe she should have fed him last night after all. "Yes, please eat, sooner is preferable, before it gets too cold. If her Majesty finds out you've skipped again she would not only be displeased, but also feel inclined to feed you herself, to ensure you are feeding yourself properly." She didn't know why she kept talking about herself in third person, maybe it was Hans' more seriousness that brought it out.

Hans smirked to himself, and stifled an obvious laugh. "If I were a more playful or flirtatious soul, I'd say that would be a perfectly good reason not to eat. But, I've never been a man to allow others to do anything for me." Still, he smiled at the challenge, intentionally trying to fluster her. He truly was the playful and flirtatious foul, even when he tried very much not to be.

He easily succeeded in making her face flush, with his words as well as his smile. "Uh-I'm well aware of that," Elsa answered with a slight fluster in her tone. She knew Hans strives to be independent as possible and not be seen as a burden, he did almost let himself die in the dungeon because of it. "Um, before I go, to let you eat, would you like some ice?" Elsa asked. Ice had become her go to deflector to get herself out of an awkward conversation. She hadn't even started thinking of what she was going to do once Hans healed and it was no longer a viable option, she'd become too dependent on the excuse already.

Hans kept his expression moderated, a mild smile, though there was still a spark of amusement. "I would be glad for some ice. My wound does still pain me, as you can likely tell. As much as I keep my pains quiet, it would be silly to pretend I don't have them now, I suppose." He smiled a little, gently. Perhaps a big step to admit he had one nonetheless. "And how are your wounds?" He clearly cared about her minor injuries with the same care she had for his stab wound.

Elsa had completely forgotten about her own wounds, since they felt insignificant compared to Hans', they were nothing more than a scrape and a bruise. It had been two weeks since the attack so they'd been healing up nicely since then. She had incurred two minor wounds, physical ones at least. The first was but a small scratch on her cheek. It had healed rather quickly, especially with the help of Kristoff's salve. The scratch no longer stung so she'd ignored it's existence. It was now a soft pink color, probably easily blending in with the blush of her cheeks. It had become nothing other than a barely noticeable blemish on her porcelain skin, at least to her. Her second injury, on the other hand, was still somewhat of an inconvenience. She no longer wore a sling to support her arm, but it still wasn't fully healed either. "My wounds? Well, as you can see, I'm at least able to move my arm now," she answered as she demonstrated some motion as she positioned herself to ice his wounds. "Though I must admit my arm is still a bit sore and I've got to be careful when lifting my arm too high or too fast, but other than that I think it's been healing up fine," Elsa reassured him with a smile. Elsa focused and started using her magic. "There's still no word from the Isles as of yet, but hopefully we'll receive correspondence soon."

"It can be a long boat ride. It's been, what, a few days? It will likely be a few more before it arrives. Or, I've forgotten time again. Perhaps they're taking their time to handle Weselton themselves, or trying to decide what to do about me being here. I'm sure they expected me to return-- and rather hoped I didn't. I'm not sure they truly understand how forgiving Arendelle can be. For the better, perhaps. War is not like my brother, but 'polite acquisition of power' is a strength of ours. Gerard is good with words, Felix is a true scholar with letters, between the two they could peacefully negotiate the tea from China, if they decided to." Perhaps a slight exaggeration, but it was nice to know Hans had a few positive things to say of his family. He sighed and took the time to appreciate the chill on his wounds. He always tensed just a little before relaxing, when she iced them. The cold stung or twinged at first, until he could relax into it. "They're good men, those two. Gerard was always harder to get to know, but I know he's a good man. He was there at my darkest hour, in spite of his busy schedule. That always surprised me, that I made notice. Felix seems quite boring by comparison, but I think he just has a niche sense of humor. Things he jokes about are funny to him because his humor has depth. He was never especially good with people, like Gerard, but we joke that he knows the text of any book that manages to find its way into the castle, without needing to read it. I know it was a joke, but I always felt it was a good enough reason to burn my pages." It wasn't often Hans spoke of his brothers, least of all with anything positive to say, but it was true that he did have a few good memories of the isles-- or at least knew a few good things about a few brothers.

Elsa was caught by surprise, Hans rarely spoke of his brothers much less spoke well of them or brought them up by name. Gerard must have been the person who saved him, from the darkness they had talked about back when she had broken down in front of him. It was nice to hear he had some respectable brothers among the dozen.

"Which brothers are those exactly?" Elsa was embarrassed to even ask, her cheeks reddening even more than before. Up until now Elsa had been visualizing his brothers as a homogeneous cluster of men. "I'm sorry for asking, this is the first time you mention them by name and frankly there are too many Princes of the Southern Isles to keep track of, especially when I can't match a face to a name." Or in this case a name to a number since she wouldn't exactly be able to see them. It was even more confusing since all of them were his older brothers.

Hans chuckled. "No matter, we sometimes call each-other by number, and it gets more confusing when one includes the twins and the other two brothers who may as well be twins. Gerard is the eldest, Felix the second. Gerard is best described as 'a red-haired King Arthur in training', down to his knight's sword. Felix is visually distinctive by his glasses and his slightly darker red hair. Genuinely, it's a few shades' difference and truly the only one with a different hair color, the lucky duck." He laughed dryly. "Would you like to know more of my brothers? I speak poorly of my family, but in truth, I do like a few of them, and others are only sometimes a problem. A few are genuine blackguards, admittedly." He shrugged one shoulder, looking only passing interest in that fact.

"Most of us play instruments, all carry some kind of weapon unique to them, and of course we all have our unique personality traits. We all carry numbers and most carry signet rings. Mine is probably stricken and put in a safe somewhere, if it hasn't been melted down. Some of us didn't stay in the line of ascension, for various criminal reasons. I suppose I can count myself among them now." He was prince in name only. A name worth only open visitation to his home castle, a place he never wanted to be in the first place. "I suppose if you ever wanted to really mess with the Isles, I could help you marry into it. Or Anna. I certainly know which brothers might be worth the effort." He laughed dryly, almost bitterly at the thought. "I wouldn't want to sentence you to my mother as an in-law, though. I can think of a few worse fates."

She knew the part about helping her or Anna marry into the Isles was a joking remark, but it still made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She furrowed her brows a bit. Hans really seemed to have some deeply rooted resentment towards his mother.

"I feel a little bad asking the Isles for aid, yet I know little to nothing about them myself. I think I would like to at least try learning all your brothers' names, if you don't mind sharing."

Hans nodded, and grinned in amusement, clearly up to some mischief. "Gerard, Felix, Gregory, Lars and Georg, Judas, Hammund, Sigir and Petrus, Simon, Bernhard, Eduard, and Hans. And if you can recite them all back to me I will be highly impressed." He spoke quickly enough, giving her a playful grin as if amused by the fact that his whole family was a struggle. "I said them in order, of course, though if you confuse the twins or the should-be-twins, it wouldn't be too great a surprise or loss, they are used to it." "I'll give you a hint, there's three G names."

"Wait, what? I didn't think I had to memorize them all so quickly, and in order. You could at least have given me time to come up with a mnemonic." Elsa groaned. "I don't think I'll be able to get them all, but I'll try my best," she nodded.

"Okay, so there's Gerard and Felix --you just talked about them so that was easy-- followed by Gregory or was it Georg --I can't remember-- then there was Lars --I believe-- Georg or Gregory -- and then I got really lost in the middle-- Uh... Jørgen? --no, that doesn't sound right at all-- and Harold? --that doesn't sound right either-- Sigurd and Peder? --yeah, I don't know about those-- and then there was a Simon --just like the name of the mirror prince-- Uh, then there's Bernard and Edward --I'm more certain about those two-- Okay that was twelve," Elsa had been counting with her fingers. "And that just leaves you, Hans, last but certainly not least."

"So how badly did I butcher it?" Elsa curiously asked. " I know I at least named thirteen, unless I forgot one or accidentally added a fourteenth prince."

Hans laughed a little at her attempts. "Sorry, your Majesty, but we do like to tease people with it." He admitted playfully.

"You did quite well, actually! A few in the middle were wrong, that's usually the way of it, though usually people remember a name like Judas." He smiled a bit. "The first is Gerard, a red-haired King Arthur type down to his knightly sword. A good sense of humor and the gold standard of sons, polite and good-natured and honorable and all those things, the spitting image of our father in his youth, but for father's facial hair."

"Felix, the second, is prim and proper, cold and analytical, knows every book in the Isles, seemingly. He does have his dry sense of humor and odd interests. I'm led to believe he can warm up to people, I don't know that I've seen it. You'll rarely find Gerard without him, but Felix does venture on his own in the castle sometimes. If Gerard is the face of the Isles, Felix is the brains, without him nothing would get done. His hair is darker, and he prefers a rapier."

"Gregory is a musician, married to a singer named Katharina. Both of them the kindest people one could meet. In a way, they both look strikingly like our parents, father's illness is in Gregory as well, and Katharina has mother's dark hair. But Katharina is more kind than mother ever could have been, and all the more beautiful for it, and Gregory never had to worry about being a king, and so devoted his life to his passions, and is happy. He's a bit bewildered at times for his medications. Opiates, unfortunately. I refuse to take them for pain, I've seen what they do to people, thankfully not in our family." Hans paused and grimaced a little, rubbing his pained wound slightly, pressing the ice closer. "Gregory carries a small dagger rather than a sword, and it was Katharina's 'welcome to the family' gift from Mother. She would have nothing to do with it, so he keeps it instead."

“Lars and Georg are the twins, youthful hunters determined to catch whatever great new beast and have adventures, as if we're still medieval. Hunters, not above hunting a red-haired fox like me now and then. I've learned a few tricks to avoid them. They're ostensibly identical, but they strive to at least look different. Lars prefers cool colors, Georg prefers warm, Lars keeps his hair longer, Georg cropped shorter. Lars is a hair leaner, Georg a bit softer. They prefer crossbows to blades, but do have preferences there that I forget."

"Judas is a church man, we think it has to do with his name. You could tell mother was getting tired of having children by then. He's serious, grim, a bit fire-and-brimstone for a Lutheran. I'm told his flock likes him, but I haven't been to church in years on the chance I'd run into him. Lean, tall, and a constant look as if you've told an inappropriate joke during Sunday school. Short hair, no weapon as a man of the cloth."

"Hammund is your stereotype of a working man. The Isles' official Master of the Horse, both tall and broad, soft and strong. He could lift a foal easily enough. Prefers a Zweihander. He's a boisterous man, with a loud laugh and a love of drinking and tavern songs. Supposedly has a history of getting handsy with barmaids, but we're fairly sure he'd have been poisoned by now if he'd done anything serious. He can get rough with brothers at times, but he also knows there's a line, even if it's a little further away than we'd often like. He's not one to kick while you're down."

"Then there's the disappointments, Sigir and Petrus. Both thieves, I think they go by 'sideburns' and 'patches', or something ridiculous like that, now. Arrested in a foreign kingdom for theft and some other things. Disowned, and thank god for that. Petrus broke my arm once to make me give into something, I forget what. It was the first real test of how well I could hide pain. They were suitably impressed by that. They aren't twins, but ought to have been." He slipped in that dark detail without flinching. If anything, he still seemed proud of it.

"Simon is the flirt, the kind one hears stories of, which is why I borrowed his name for my little story. All flirtations with women and drinks with men to talk about his women. Every woman, a conquest and every story full of nonsense. He's probably been run out of every tavern and woman's home at least once for some reason or other, but is charming enough and powerful enough to get forgiven. Worse, he's a terrible poet. Prefers a fencing foil, and not near as good with it as he says. Assume everything he says is a gross exaggeration, or a disguised insinuation."

"There's Bernhard, the sweet innocent one. He's a big man, soft in muscle and in heart. He likes to bake and spends all day at it. He's also Deaf. Felix invented a sign language to communicate with him, and all us brothers have used it since then fluently." Hans did a quick and deliberate series of hand signs as if to demonstrate, though faltered when he moved too quick and made something twinge in his wound. He didn't try that again. "We don't think our parents learned. Father tried but was always ill, mother never made time, so we signed behind her back. Just as well, it's better he does not know what she picks at him about, like a carrion bird. He just wants to bake in peace. Even Sigir and Petrus wouldn't give him problems. He's quite bright, but often gets left out of things like marriage proposal discussions. None of us like it, but who would take the time to learn his language? Our language? The castle halls echo horribly. Signing is sometimes the only way to ensure a secret stays a secret between two people."

"Then there's the other disappointment, Eduard. I love him dearly, as a brother. Long straight hair he takes care of, feminine good looks, always wry and playful banter, but he has a genuine care and sincerity for others. He gossips to get to know people and get in their good graces, and he knows every undesirable in the Isles; every person you don't want to know, but should. He's a 'disappointment' ostensibly because he joined the Thieves guild, truthfully because he prefers the company of other men, and that's technically punishable by hanging, still. Not for lack of trying to decriminalize it, but that's not likely to pass in the next few years. We, like most cases, quietly slide it under the rug. He's not a bad person, I don't care if Jesus himself comes down off the cross to tell me otherwise. He prefers a whip, but used to carry a rapier before an arranged marriage fell through. On her end, surprisingly, his spirits only improved from there." Hans was, at least, protective of a few brothers. "He and Judas haven't spoken in years, though the church is an easy walk and they are often both at the same family gatherings."

"Then the last disappointment, me. If I were to describe myself as I am in the Isles, I would say I am depressingly grim, dry and dark-humored, quiet to the point of nonexistent whilst at home, unless being observed. I would sooner not move for hours than be observed and commented on for doing something even bland and benign. My life is the sea and I'm best left there." What a far cry from the Hans she knew. Grim and dry, perhaps, but as his primary features? And quiet? "And that makes the thirteen of us. Now you know all you need to know of the brothers to tell us apart."

Elsa tried to make mental notes to remember them all by, Hans' descriptions helped. Gerard: Crowned Prince Arthur, Felix: Books and Brains, Gregory: Musician, Lars and Georg: Hunter Twins; Lars: Cool & Long, Georg: Warm & Short; Judas: Church, Hammund: Horses, Sigir and Petrus: 'Sideburns' & 'Patches', Simon: Flirt, Bernard: Baker, Eduard: Sweetheart, and...Hans: The Man of the Sea. Hans' description of himself had saddened her for multiple reasons.

"Okay let me try again," Elsa declared. "Gerard, Felix, Gregory, Lars & Georg, Judas, Hammund, Sigir & Petrus, Simon, Bernhard, Eduard and you, Hans ."

Elsa looked at Hans intently for a moment, thinking over the things he said about himself, among other things. "I have a curious question for you," Elsa started after a pause. "Why come back to Arendelle and surrender?" she wondered. "...not that I don't want you around, you've been a great help to me and my kingdom," Elsa added frantically, waving her hands slightly, so he wouldn't think she hated having him there. "It's just... that your man of the sea and even if you were stripped of your title... you could have easily hopped on to a boat, like the one that brought you here, and instead sailed far away from here and started your life anew. I'm just curious," she said softly. She knew how much he loved the sea, he really felt he belonged there, and he could have had the chance to be happy, or at least free, outside these castle walls. "Good, nicely done! I'm suitably impressed by your memory." He assured her with an impressed smile and nod. He thought about the question, leaning back somewhat. "I'd like to believe redemption is possible. I never wanted to do all that I did, and contrary to popular belief, I can feel guilt. I do, constantly. I wanted to, if not fix things, at least explain myself. And maybe a part of me hoped you'd have me killed or I'd live in a dungeon to the end of my days, and feel justice was done. If I was on a boat, then what, piracy? More crimes? Or would I be a nameless shipman with no adventure or exploration, to earn my way to the top again or forever stack boxes and scrub decks for god knows who? Mocked for being the failure prince? I'd sooner live the drama than try to avoid it and let it find me unprepared. The difference between wading into battle with a sword drawn, and being stabbed in the back with it. I'm not inclined to face away from danger." So he considered his reputation a danger? He seemed lost in his own metaphors, and not willing to find his way back out. "I'm also not inclined to make the things I've broken worse. I'm already another of the disappointments, my next option would be piracy, but if my 'in name' title is revoked, I wouldn't be able to visit the Isles when my father or Gregory passes, nor would they be likely to find me in time." He wouldn't risk that much. He wanted to be able to visit home, but still have adventure, if he was to live. What better adventure than a fruitless quest for redemption?

"I suppose in ways I've done a much better job of fixing things than I ever expected. Perhaps I should be thanking the Duke of Weselton for giving me the opportunity to prove my loyalties." His reasoning made sense. What good would running away do anyway? When it only seemed to create more problems rather than solve them, she knew that first hand. Elsa had only asked because it was the first thing that would have crossed her mind, but Hans did seem to handle his conflicts differently, he had more of a head-on approach, (he was not even afraid to face death itself), while Elsa tried to avoid conflict like the plague if possible. It might have seemed like the easier path to take, yet he really didn't want to lead a life of crime either, he didn't want his previous bad deeds to define him. She could understand why a guilty conscience could not let him move on with his life, someone with a conscience can never truly be free living with regret or the constant fear of your past coming back to bite you. Even if Hans did not like living in the Isles, he still cared for his family, even if it was only a fraction of it.

"I see," Elsa nodded as he finished explaining. "Well, I'm glad you chose the route of redemption, even if I had my doubts in the beginning, I don't regret deciding to let you stay in Arendelle." She said sincerely. "I hope you don't regret it either despite all the additional pain it has caused you." Elsa was not just talking about physical injuries. Elsa wanted to reassure him that his efforts weren't useless, that he was doing the right thing even if Anna didn't believe it, just yet or even ever, at least she did, and he shouldn't give up hope. She told him all this as one of her hands found its way atop his, for extra reaffirmation.

Hans listened, and seemed thoughtful. He still seemed to doubt himself, if not her. He seemed surprised by her touch, as if they hadn't held hands before. He didn't withdraw, at least not immediately, but he did look away, shamed by his own past, though he was still trying so hard to move against it.

"I'm glad at least that you appreciate my efforts." He seemed to have other thoughts, ones he didn't think to share immediately, as he considered things. "You know me. Pain will never stop me from doing what must be done."

He thought about it a moment, then remembered. "Ah, one more thing. Yesterday, I was asked to teach you how to use a sword. I must agree that it seems like a wise decision. You fear hurting someone with your ice powers because you think they mark you as a sorceress. Learn to use a sword instead, then, but do not be afraid to hurt those who would hurt you, or your reign will be a short one. I can teach you, when my own wound has healed. I'll train the guards in the morning, and you in the afternoon, if you'll acquiesce. It will be a dedicated workout indeed, for both of us, but it will keep me busy, you active, and ease the fears of the guard staff knowing that you can protect yourself." He spoke almost as if it wasn't optional for her, in spite of her being the Queen. The words to suggest that it was were there, but his tone said 'learn or you will wish you had'. Not as a threat, but as a prediction.

Elsa's face contorted and she shifted herself back a bit. She opened her mouth with a gasp of air as if to speak, but closed it again. Her brows were knitted and her lips pursed into a tight line. She remained silent taking a moment to process his words. After a pensive pause she opened her mouth to speak, letting out a deep sigh. "You know...I don't fear using my powers because people will brand me as a sorceress, say what they will of me, I couldn't care less what people think of me or my magic, at least not anymore. I refrain myself from using my powers against people because I know what they are capable of doing . And yes, I don't wish to ever take anyone's life, especially if it's at all avoidable, even if they wish to take mine." Hans himself was proof of that. All life was precious to her, that's one of the reasons why she couldn't bring herself to get rid of Olaf, Marshmallow or any of her other living creations. "What I'm actually afraid of is accidentally hurting someone I didn't mean to in the crossfire. I fear the frozen heart ." She looked down at her hands. "After I almost lost Anna because of it, I can't run the risk of inflicting that fate onto anyone else, ever . The only way to thaw a frozen heart is an act of true love , and that's not easy to acquire." She might have gone off on a bit of a tangent focusing on the wrong thing.

She sighed once again. "Even if I'm reluctant to use my powers to defend myself, I understand that it's wise to find another way to defend myself. I am the Queen of Arendelle, my safety is important, and though I do not wish to harm anybody, learning to use a sword might be the best alternative to protect myself without relying entirely on my magic," she considered with a deep breath. "I'll acquiesce...but only if you promise to teach me every non-lethal you can think of disarming an opponent, if I'm able to find a nonfatal way to incapacitate my opponent first, I'll do it, baneful force is a last resort." If Elsa had the option to do things in an innocuous manner she would do it in a heartbeat.

Hans seemed uncertain, considering it a moment. "A difficult question, you've posed. I myself have only directly killed with a blade a few men, some by legal execution for the safety of citizenry, and perhaps a few in that battle, though I never stopped to check. That's it. The problem is, it's not the lashes that nearly killed me, it was the loss of blood, and the infections that came after. A man can die of a paper cut if it's poorly-tended, and will you let it rest on your soul if it's your sword that caused the cut that infected him? The fact of the matter is, when a man wants you to die, your best option is to make sure he never has the chance to act on that twice." He paused, recognizing that that very much included him. "I stand by what I said." He added, with a little acknowledging head tilt. "That doesn't always mean killing them, of course. Without my sword I was thoroughly defeated at the Fjord, and that's the best way to handle these things. But sometimes deaths can happen whether you want them to or not. Come to grips with it early, and hope it never happens to you, but I can't promise that you won't be responsible for a death at some point. I can promise that if you follow my lead and learn what I teach well, then you'll be less likely to. But I'm going to teach you the fatal things first. You need to know how to not die, before you worry about the person trying to kill you." Hans could be stubborn in his own way. He needed her to recognize the truth of the matter: Swords were killing weapons. "I won't make you kill anything, though. I'm a bastard, perhaps, but not quite that bad."

Elsa groaned, clearly conflicted. "Fine," Elsa acquiesced. She was quite stubborn herself, it wouldn't be easy to change her mind, but didn't wish to argue. "I'll follow your lead." She was thankful he wasn't going to force her to kill something, to prove his point.

Hans tilted his head a bit and thought. "In truth, if you can learn to take the heat of battle in stride, you won't need much swordplay to win. All you have to do is freeze their metal blade and hit it hard enough. That's what happened to mine, I think. A significant temperature change can change the blade, and ice will make it brittle. An opponent with no sword, can't stab you with it." He proposed. "We'll see what it looks like when we get there. I was thinking of starting you with a naval saber, but do feel free to try out a few swords in your hand, see which ones feel right to swing, perhaps ask one of the guards who knows a thing or two about swords to teach you how to hold it just to know the right weight and size. We'll work on proper grips after." He was glad she agreed to try. He would do what he could to teach her-- once he could even hold his own sword, again.

Elsa liked that idea. She just needed to learn how to handle herself well in battle. Turning Hans' teachings into knowledge in her arsenal, so swordplay could just be techniques at her disposal to help her deflect attacks. She just needed to manage to learn how to effectively evade attacks with the help of her powers. She might be opposed to using her powers against people directly, but if she could somehow be able to use them against their weapons she had absolutely no problem with that. Where there's a will there's a way and Elsa would do everything in her power to find a benign way to deal with her enemies, if at all possible, even if she was fully capable of using fatal force, as well. Elsa nodded. "I'll see what I can do." She glanced over at his food tray. "I think it might be best if I leave you to your breakfast sooner rather than later, you know, before it completely freezes over and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it."

Hans chuckled and nodded. "As you wish, your Majesty. I look forward to speaking to the Captain of the Guard later, if I can. Hopefully he'll visit before lunch, lest that meal be delayed too." It was a joke, of course. Hans would eat when Elsa left, as he promised.

#Helsa #Iceburns #Hans x Elsa #Frozen #Fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #fanfic #Shattered Reflections

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madnessinmoderation · 5 years

Text

Lost ABO Hannigram omegle rp

Really enjoyed this one, if it was you please get in touch!

You're now chatting with a random stranger.

You both like Omega!Lock, MorMor, Sherlock RP, Wing!Lock, Hannigram, and JohnLock.

Stranger: (S1-ish) Are you courting me? -WG(Omega)

You: Would you be opposed if I were? HL

Stranger: Embarrassed. -WG I've been completely unaware. Alana had to tell me. -WG

You: If I was being too subtle that would hardly be considered your fault. HL It's traditionally an alpha's responsibility to court successfully after all. HL

Stranger: Were you being subtle? Everyone else seems perfectly aware of you staking your claim. -WG It's really not a failure on your part. -WG

You: I wasn't trying to push the issue when you didn't catch onto it, I didn't want to come across as boorish. HL

Stranger: Ha. Like you have the ability to be rude to anyone. I've seen you politely enduring boring conversations with plenty of people, then ask to have them for dinner. -WG How long have you been courting me? -WG

You: I assure you I am capable, I'm just careful to avoid doing so as it's not something I personally like to be known for. HL I have been seriously trying for a few months, although I first started testing the waters not long after we first met. HL

Stranger: Ah, yes. You brought me breakfast and I told you you're not that interesting. I can see why you like me, I'm charming. -WG

You: That was maybe part of seeing how receptive you were. I was perhaps understating how soon after our first encounter I was interested. HL

You: Although it's hard to tell when vague interest turned into solid intent. HL

Stranger: You know, Doctor, I should probably be a little bit more concerned about you strolling around inside my brain when you're also trying to get in my pants. -WG

You: I've only ever been interested in supporting you Will, I hope your knowledge of my interest doesn't make you feel like I have overstepped any boundaries. HL

Stranger: No, I am flattered. -WG

You: Flattered enough to accept an invite to dinner? HL

Stranger: I kissed Alana. -WG

You: Oh. I see. HL

Stranger: It's complicated. -WG I really had no clue you were courting me. I just needed something. It's hard to explain, but you should know. -WG I would still like to come to dinner... if that hasn't changed anything. -WG

You: If you have no present attachment to Dr. Bloom, I see no reason for anything to change. HL

Stranger: You're sure? -WG You don't have to be polite. -WG

You: I'm positive. HL

Stranger: I'll bring the wine. -WG

You: That would be appreciated. HL

Stranger: Just let me know when. -WG

You: This Friday at 7pm? HL

Stranger: As long as I don't end up on a date with a serial killer, I'm all yours. -WG

You: [[Amazing line]] Then lets hope the only 'killing' will be filling in the time before then. HL

Stranger: We'll be friends, won't we? -WG If all of this goes wrong. -WG

You: I'm hoping we won't need to be, but if such an event were to occur I would believe so, yes. HL

Stranger: Good. It's rather had to find company I enjoy keeping. -WG Other than the dogs. -WG

You: Company is easy to come by, good company on the other hand is less readily available. HL

Stranger: Not certain if you should or shouldn't use that as a toast at one of your dinner parties. -WG

You: It sounds about perfect for that sort of occasion. HL

Stranger: I'm sure everyone in the room will feel very special. -WG

Stranger: Shame it isn't the truth. -WG

You: I never specified they were the good company, so it is not technically a lie either. HL

Stranger: You wouldn't consider purposefully withholding the truth a lie? -WG I wish I had known before I mentioned the kiss. -WG

You: At one of my dinner parties I believe a few white lies are necessary to host amicably. HL

You: That is a rather different scenario. HL

Stranger: Is it? Withholding to minimise damage/offence. -WG

You: Dinner guests are aware that these social niceties exist, even if they do not know what the lie is. HL

Stranger: And in the traditions of courting kissing Betas is common place? -WG

You: I'm glad you told me either way. HL

Stranger: I'm deflecting because I feel guilty. Sorry. -WG

You: It's understandable. Would it help if I kissed Alana too yo balance the scales? HL

Stranger: No. -WG No. Don't do that. -WG Just because you're not a jealous man, I am. -WG

You: It was a joke. I know someone I would rather like to kiss, but he's a rather jealous man apparently. HL

Stranger: You've been courting me for months. We could always skip dinner. -WG

You: I suppose I have shown you I can provide plenty of times before. HL

Stranger: Not really want I look for in a partner, anyway. -WG

You: What do you look for then? HL

Stranger: To be understood, I guess. -WG To be seen as someone's equal, despite my biology. Something I usually only get from Betas. -WG

You: Do you think I can provide that for you? HL

Stranger: Are you planning to chain me to the cooker? -WG I should warn you I'll spitefully ruin your fancy pans. -WG

You: I wouldn't give up cooking for anything, so you don't have to worry about that. HL

Stranger: Why do you like me, Hannibal? -WG

Stranger: Out of all the beautiful socialite Omegas you could choose to go after, who would openly welcome your affection, and not take so long to work it out, you want me. -WG

You: Perhaps its because you're not one of those vapid omegas who lack a personality of their own. HL

You: I think you are perhaps I first became intrigued by you because you were the first omega I ever met who stood up to two alphas in the same room in what was clearly an ambush. HL

Stranger: You and Jack are not as scary as you like to believe. -WG

You: Perhaps, but it was impressive none the less. HL I don't want a mate who isn't my equal, I suppose that we have in common. HL

Stranger: You want a mate who challenges you? -WG

You: As much as I challenge them, yes. HL

Stranger: I refuse to believe that I am the first to do that. -WG

You: You're the first to consistently. HL

Stranger: I like that I can't read you. -WG

You: That's a good thing? HL

Stranger: Probably not. -WG

Stranger: It's interesting. -WG

You: It probably isn't a good thing in your books, but I like the way you think. HL

Stranger: You realise you're going to have to share more about yourself. -WG

You: I'm aware. Are you comfortable doing the same? HL

Stranger: Are you pretending you don't know about me? -WG

You: I only know what you let me see. HL

Stranger: And you can draw conclusions on. -WG

You: True, but the same applies the other way around. HL

Stranger: You're far better at selecting what information I see. -WG And Jack isn't in the habit of telling me anything about you. -WG

You: Jack certainly doesn't know as much as you do. HL

Stranger: My point if that Jack tells you everything about me. You're my handler, aren't you? -WG

You: Jack is very professionally oriented. HL

Stranger: Ha. -WG

You: His notes rarely cover simple things like you're favourite food, how many dogs you actually own or what you consider your safe place. HL

You: I've scented you a few times recently, although without much of a chance to do so thoroughly it always leaves me more frustrated than I was before. HL

You: I hope that isn't too much of an admission. HL

Stranger: I always shower before therapy. -WG

You: I know. I can smell the soap on you. HL

Stranger: You're misunderstanding the intent. It's not my regular band. It doesn't dull my natural scent. -WG

Stranger: I hope that is too much of an admission. -WG

You: You wanted me to. HL

You: Have you ever scented me? HL

Stranger: I enjoy the physical effect it has on you. You're usually far more composed. -WG

Stranger: And you've been using biological warfare since our first session. I just evened the playing field. -WG

Stranger: And not exactly scented. Stolen a tie. -WG

You: I have to sacrifice some composure to hold back other desires. HL

You: I didn't exactly change anything, I've never seen any need to hide my scent. HL

You: The blue paisely one? I was wondering where that went. HL

Stranger: You use your scent as a tool to disarm people. It's impressive. -WG

Stranger: Well... comfort people. But familiarity and safety makes people admit things they usually wouldn't. -WG

Stranger: You can have it back, in exchange for another one. -WG

You: I'm hardly the only alpha to take advantage of that. HL

You: You can have something larger if you'd like, the scent will last longer. HL

Stranger: We could sleep together. Your scent would last for a shorter period, but it would be a lot stronger. -WG

You: It would give us an opportunity to fully scent each other too. HL

Stranger: Ah, there is a downside with that. -WG

You: Being? HL

Stranger: I can imagine it'll be somewhat distracting and therefore frustrating when it isn't there anymore. -WG

You: There are ways of making it last long enough til the next night. HL

Stranger has disconnected.

#omegle rp #lost rp #lost omegle rp #hannigram #hannigram rp #hannibal

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mikzhyu · 5 years

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Like, a summary of the plot and what happened in it? Or a retelling if you want to. I’m rlly curious. Oh this is rp Anon

for as far as we got up to before we stopped roleplaying it, the rp itself spanned over i think... 5 years. here’s a timeline with a brief description of what happens where.

i’m explaining the whole roleplay here, not just claus and giygas, and it’s also been a while (this was done over voice, not text) so bear with me.

i’ll add whatever doodles i had done of things that happened.

the rp takes place post-mother 3, like, immediately so. lucas wakes up once the world has been reset via the dragon and starts just, well, sadly going about his business. it’s only when -- i believe -- someone caught wind that someone was inside of the graveyard. when lucas went, it was actually claus, who had been brought back to life somehow after his death. they check to see if lucas’ wish fully came true, only to find that hinawa had not been brought back as well. (lucas wished for everything to return back to him... which included his brother and mother.)

soon after that, more strange sightings started. first was ninten, who promptly found ana being attacked by zombies in the graveyard. i don’t remember where lloyd came in. this is under the assumption that teddy had died at the end of mother 1. ninten has no clue how they got there, as they were just coming down mt. itoi from fighting giegue.

the earthbound crew was next; ness washing up from the beach, and honest to god i don’t remember where the other 3 appeared from. ness and co were taken from just after ness awakening to his powers in magicant.

the last person to appear out of nowhere was locria, of all people. not even they knew why or how they were alive.

that’s a lie, whoops. porky also was no longer in his weird orb thing or whatever. yeah, that spooks lucas and co. ness is confused as to why pokey is here too and why people are calling him porky. and why they’re so damn scared of him, of all things.

uhh.... blah blah, don’t remember stuff, probably a few weeks pass or whatever. yes, ness gets painfully homesick. no, they haven’t figured out a solution yet. they still don’t know how are why they all got here at all or why monsters are still appearing from everywhere.

i believe.... the next major plotpoint was that dr. andonuts managed to build/rebuild a replica time machine that the earthbound squad used to go and fight giygas fair and square, hoping that that’d set everything right again. they think they manage to defeat him, as he disappears at the end of the battle. they come back more or less safely.

very, very soon after they return claus starts to feel ill. like, really ill. in fact, he ends up shrieking in pain and ultimately shutting down without warning. i think dr. andonuts didn’t really find anything wrong with him, just that he overheated, but he couldn’t find a reason why.

once claus reawakens, he starts having weird thoughts, like a voice in the back of his head. strange deaths start to happen in tazmily, but nobody knows how or why. claus ultimately blames ninten and co for it, where ninten immediately lashes back out at him saying something really nasty, like “why should we trust you anyway? you worked under the enemy and served as their robot slave.” ninten, unfortunately, doesn’t even know why he said this and well, they kind of have a big fight. it would have ended poorly if ana hadn’t have stepped in when she did.eventually, claus starts to notice these weird things happening to himself. he tries to talk to lucas about it in his fear, but, well....

....yeah, that’s where this comic came from. claus literally shuts down without warning when he tries to say anything. ana even mentions soon enough that she feels a horrible evil energy radiating from claus and expresses her concern.

yadda yadda, again don’t remember these bits... i believe they do eventually realize that, somehow, giygas has taken shelter inside of claus. giygas is still weak of course, so he’s not able to do much other than slightly influence claus using his more mechanical parts.

for some wack ass reason, locria shows up. they tell lucas and co. off saying that they’re not here to cause any kind of issue, just mentioning that the only thing they hate more than them was giygas for destroying magicant. they offer to seal giygas away, and after much inner turmoil, claus agrees and inevitably gets stabbed with a needle to seal him away. the seal is then kept in osohe castle.

and for 4 years, it stays there. monsters still appear but are far less aggressive and don’t appear as often. claus doesn’t hear a peep from giygas during this time, and everyone typically spends their time just trying to find a way to get the mother 1 + 2 crew back to their proper timelines. they don’t succeed. (irrelevant to the plot, but ninten + ana get together as well as lucas + ness.)

during these years, giygas had been recovering his energy again. of course, it required far more to even try and sneak his power out from the seal, but inevitably he does. using claus’ self-doubt and self-loathing, giygas managed to influence him enough to pull the needle while he’s not thinking correctly. locria doesn’t sense the danger until it’s too late, and inevitably they fade back away.

giygas is now in complete control of claus. all claus can do is watch from the back of his mind as his own body does such unspeakable things.

after this, claus, the egg of light, and lloyd all go missing. it’s easy to assume why claus and the egg of light are missing (the egg contains all the information giygas wants after all), but nobody knew how or why lloyd went missing.

some time passes. giygas is eventually located and at first a small group goes to scout ahead while the others deal with another issue, probably all the monsters overrunning tazmily. ness is the first to find him, and ends up having to fight him alone -- which ends very, very poorly. ness gets sucked back into (earthbound’s) magicant, where giygas manages to completely shatter his mind into pieces, rendering the boy completely emotionless and unable to do anything by himself.

everyone else arrives later on, and there’s a huge fight between everyone and giygas, who is now puppeteering ness. it only ends when everyone realizes they need to retreat, as most of everyone takes near-fatal damage in the fight. i believe ninten and poo manage to teleport everyone back, where lucas realizes in horror that they left ness behind. or something. they left someone behind. lucas learns how to use teleport here, since everyone else is far too exhausted to do it again. when they come back, giygas and ness are gone.

more time passes. still, nobody knows where giygas, ness, or lloyd are. lucas at this point is uh... not feeling too hot, and tensions are at an all-time high. during this time there’s a scene where giygas and ness are taking residence in whatever the heck lab is in mother 3 (sorry it’s been a while), and lloyd shows up, presenting the egg of light to giygas. giygas realizes he doesn’t know how to pull the information out of the egg and just shoves it off onto ness to hold onto for a while.

oh yeah, i forgot something related to porky happened here. i don’t remember how it ended, but giygas encountered porky here, who reveals that he has done the unthinkable -- he’s gone back in time to literally steal his younger self’s body so that he’s far more flexible again.

that’s more important than it sounds. because, using the egg of light’s power, queen maria manages to reach the depths of ness’ mind still somehow tucked away and rotting and guides him back to his robot body to help him fix all of this.

eventually giygas figures he needs to seek out the guardian of the egg of light, who happens to be kumatora. he more or less just shows up on their doorstep and threatens to kill everyone if she doesn’t. he nearly does, too, because kumatora doesn’t know how to open the egg either, but in her distress as duster is beginning to die away from giygas’ attacks, she manages to get it open somehow. giygas ultimately releases duster to grab the egg, leaving him still alive, albeit barely.

i don’t remember how, but one of the robot bodies that dr. andonuts made shows up and shoves the puppet ness away from everyone, stopping him from killing them all. giygas commands puppet ness to get rid of it, and the two duke it out for a while, before the robot casts a really high level of starstorm and just absolutely knocks puppet ness the fuck out. the robot then walks over, grabs the hat that puppet ness dropped, and sticks it on his head, signifying that he’s ness’ mind taking residence there.

giygas decides he needs to take measures into his own hands and tries to dip into the robot’s mind again like he had done with ness before to try and squish out that dying light. it’s here that he finds that it’s maria herself that is protecting ness, and giygas simply cowers in fear and despair from her. robot ness is able to deliver the final blow on him, knocking giygas right back into the deep recesses of claus’ mind. ness is able to merge back into his proper body.

surprisingly, this is the part where i start remembering less... even though it’s the most recent stuff that happened. i think there was another little time skip? not too big of one, though. during this time, more and more chimeras start appearing and attacking tazmily rather than just all the random beings being overly aggressive. ness and lucas go out somewhere in the mountains together, only for the two of them to end up stuck in moonside somehow.

ness and lucas get separated here, but using that one dude from earthbound who fucking died in moonside’s guidance, lucas manages to find ness and get them both out of moonside.

except, when they return, nobody can see ness. and... there’s another ness still in tazmily? we’ll call them ghost!ness and other!ness. yeah, there’s a lot of nesses in this rp. lucas doesn’t quite trust other!ness, believing that it’s some sort of moonside trick and he’s there to hurt everyone. but of course, nobody believes lucas that ghost!ness is even there or exists.

eventually, after ninten and ana figure out that they can see ghost!ness, they use the method of a pop quiz and find out that ghost!ness is the fake one after all. it’s far too late, though, because ghost!ness drags the whole gang straight into moonside together, revealing himself to actually be moonside!ness, the new manimani that porky made using giygas’ power he’d captured long ago.

and.... that’s about as far as we got. we stopped right when everyone entered moonside and never returned to the roleplay.

if you have any further questions or want specifications for stuff, just ask? i’m happy to talk about it, haha. i hope at least most things made sense.

#long post #hrngh #idk how to tag this #oh but i managed to recover it all. i was being dramatic i only lost 914 words #but this still ended up being nearly 2k #anonymous

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a-forlorn-soul · 5 years

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Prompt #12: Hopeless Hearts

FFXIVWrite2019

Prompt #12: Fingers Crossed

Rating: SFW

Warnings: Long read, mushy stuff, really long read, horrible mushiness

Timeline: Approx 6-7 months ago

Featuring: Features Charbi Burkitshi @foofmastaflex. Based off of an RP done.

A sigh escaped Kete as he followed Chabi back into the inn room she carried the key for. His mind was already disregarding the looks they had gotten on the way in, the people of this city assuming things beyond what was actually happening. The woman in front of him wasted no time at all in pushing the door open for him to step in, and quickly closed it behind them once he was inside. Now that they were there, he wasn’t sure how this was going to go. All he could do was pray and hope that it would go how he wanted, or well hope with fingers crossed.

<“Alright, who did you hurt and how much do we have to pay in damages?> Chabi questioned him in a firm tone.

Turning around he found that she was scowling at him angrily, taking him completely by surprise. <”What do you mean? Why would you assume it was something I have done?”> he countered in a confused voice with his brows furrowing. His eyes searched her stance as he wondered if perhaps he had gotten this all wrong from the very start.

<”Why else would you wish to speak in private?”>

The fact that she was now pinching the bridge of her nose caused the determination that he had earlier to wither and fade slowly. Not a word about what he had really wanted to discuss had been said and he could already feel his own stoic nature pulling the walls of his emotions closed. Even before he realized it his expression became passive as he stared at her in silence for a moment. <”You make it sound as if all I bring to you is bad news. I just wished to speak of something I did not believe others should hear. It is a courtesy to do such, or at least I learned such in Hingashi.”>

Her shoulders sagged a bit, giving away that she was beginning to lower her guard before she moved over to take a seat at the table. <”Then I apologize. So what did you wish to speak of?”?>

<”It is impossible to avoid noticing how things went during our bout this morning,”> he responded, taking a seat himself. He paused just a moment to chug a drink for himself, slamming his cup back down. <”True, there has been tension between us for some time before you said a word on it. Yet now it is more intense and cannot be left alone, especially with how we must work together.”>

<”What?”> she stammered while nearly choking on her water, <”There is no tension. You made the comment of me being on top, and we had an understanding that I have small feelings that will fade. If they cause you issues we will avoid Bokh until it is resolved.”>

Now it was his turn to pinch the bridge of his nose while a brief flicker of emotion returned to his stoic expression. He should have known that she would be dismissive of it all, but a part of him had hoped that he’d be able to get through to her. Leaning back in his chair he tried to figure out what to say in order to get it through to her. In the back of his mind a part of him was damning himself for being such a loner ever since he broke free from the prison.

<”That is not what I mean. Yes I made the comment but there is more to it than small feelings. Then again you probably do not remember the other incidents.”>

<”If you mean what happened when you bit me during a previous bout, yes that happened. What are you trying to say? Do you wish me to step down?”>

This back and forth was going nowhere and already in his mind he was giving up what hope he had of resolving this. Throwing his hands up in defeat at how stubborn and oblivious she was being he pushed himself to his feet to move for the door in order to leave. <”What was I thinking… I knew it was impossible to speak of such things with you. Forget I said anything at all.

<”Kete wait,”> she called out while darting in between him and the door, <”You need to tell me what is on your mind, I cannot read it. If you walk away without saying it then it will only cause confusion and more tension.”>

Looking away from her, he tried to organize his own thoughts before shifting his eyes to meet hers. <”I do not know, that is the problem. I do not know how to put to words what I feel. All I know is that before this tension I knew where things stood. You handled the coin, and I the muscle. Sure I snuck more than my fair share of looks at you, but only because it riled you up and I would have to be blind to not see your beauty. But now… it is different.”>

For some reason her expression almost became crestfallen and her eyes fell to the floor while getting out of his way. <”I see… my saying something has made things awkward. I apologize. I… I will just keep my distance so I do not hinder your work.”>

<”Nhaama grant me strength,”> he muttered under his breath.

On one hand he wanted to strangle her for being so dense and on the other he wanted to throw himself out a window for being so ignorant on how to say these things. Thoughts and ideas raced through his head in order for him to decide on how best to continue forward from here. It was clear nothing he said was getting through to her. Which, this wasn’t really all that surprising to him. He was a Xaela, and therefore better with taking action than speaking.

<”It seems I must be more blunt for you to understand,”> he told her with his voice still low. Instead of leaving after saying that he stepped closer to her until he had her nearly pinned up against the wall. Then moving to raise her head up to look at him with one hand he lowered himself to bring his lips to hers in a kiss, letting his actions explain what he was failing at explaining.

He could tell that she hadn’t expected it by the way she first started to tense up, but his heart nearly skipped a beat when she began to press into the kiss in response. She wasn’t pulling away or rejecting him, and to him that rekindled that flame of hope. Perhaps there was something to this finger crossing he had heard about. Now he pinned her fully against the wall as his lips pressed harder against hers, continuing the kiss until his lungs began to burn for want of air.

When they parted to both take a much needed breath she ended up looking up at him with confusion in her eyes. <”Kete… why?”> she stammered out, <”We’re partners… we… we cannot. It could interfere with the business.>”

<”Business?”> he countered with an incredulous tone, though he was still very much out of breath, <”Is that truly all you can think of. I could care less, and why?”> Pausing there he stared into her eyes, making his own seem to almost flash brighter than they normally did. <”Because for some reason my blood burns as if I had Azim’s fire in me when you are near.”>

<”W-what?”> she continued to stammer, almost as if unable to comprehend any of it, <”But.. How? Why? I am nothing more than a merchant. Besides, I only have a crush, yes a crush and nothing more. But… I like hearing this… why do I like hearing this?”>

Her hands were covering her horns as she all but started to panic right there. Now he knew that it was not just him who had a hard time with such things after all. <”You are Xaela, there is no just merchant for us. You fight with Azim’s strength and move with Nhaama’s grace. When and why have no purpose here, especially when we both know it being just a crush is a lie.”>

She was still visibly panicking even more as he went on, unable to let herself just be in the moment. <”But how is this going to help us? How will things run? How can this do anything other than make it difficult for us?”> Each time she found something new to fret about it seemed like she was trying to avoid being close to someone at all. At least that was how he was seeing it.

All he did at first was just shrug in response to the rambling. <”I do not know. In truth I did not think past this part,”> he stated in a matter of fact tone, <”But I do hope we can make it work… and perhaps this will help.”>

Knowing full well that they both recently admitted that the touching of another’s horns was reserved specifically for signs of affection in both of their tribes he brought his hands up to her horns. The touch was gentle and seemingly snapped her out of her panic. She eased against the wall to relax as he moved in to kiss her once more. It may not have gone the way he had hoped, but it was better than he had feared.

#ffxivwrite2019 #Kete Sunir #Chabi Burkitshi #ff14 #ff14 rp #Balmung #Xaela #Writing #Writing prompt #Kete writing #Kete x Chabi

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

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Good

A/N: Product of a C4 RP with @arin-schreave . Unedited because its 15k, its 3:30am, I’m just trying to catch up, and of course We Die Like Men. Mentions include @ladyreggiewright @clemencewestley @idaliamoretti @melanie-schreave @ladyjenli and @safiya-schreave . May have forgotten some, sorry! Also I can't think about windmills without thinking about Pilot Peter BUT ANYWAY WITHOUT FURTHER ADO,,,FIC!

I yawned, staring at the blank piece of paper in front of me. My plan had been to respond to the letters my family had written to me - my mother’s, in particular - but after fifteen minutes of sitting at my desk, I hadn’t even written a, “Dear mother,” or anything of that sort. With a sigh, I rubbed at my eyes, earning a frown from Julia, who stood behind me, brushing my hair.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” She set down the brush, narrowing her eyes at me as she picked up a handful of bobby pins, sticking some on the hem of her dress sleeve.

I frowned in response, deciding whether or not to tell her the truth. I truly had tried to go to bed at a decent hour, settling back into my room at ten o’clock, but I had laid there for at least an hour, not being able to fall asleep. At that point, I had decided to read, hoping that would tire me out. That had ultimately backfired, because when I checked the clock again, it had been two in the morning. I’d tried to sleep once again at that point, but had maybe gotten an hour or two before I woke up again, at which point I just gave up and went for my morning run earlier than usual.

“Don’t even bother answering,” Julia said with a disappointed sigh. “It’s written all over your face.”

“That bad, huh?” I looked down at my hands where they sat in my lap, running my fingers over each other.

From the corner of the room, Grace fixed me with a soft smile, her eyes warm as she folded some hand towels. “Do you want to skip dinner, and take a nap instead? We can have something to eat brought here later.”

I pressed my lips together. The option was tempting, but ultimately, I shook my head, looking at Grace through the mirror atop my vanity. “I’m not much of a napper, and besides, I’d never hear the end of it from Reggie if I was absent from yet another meal.”

Grace opened her mouth like she was about to say something more, but a sharp knock at the door cut her off. Odd. I hadn’t been expecting any visitors. I furrowed my brows, making eye contact with Julia through the mirror, but she just shook her head, finishing the low bun she had been styling my hair in before taking a few steps back.

Without my shoes on yet, it only took me a matter of seconds to cross the floor to the door. I opened it a crack, peeking through to see who it was. The moment I made out Arin’s face, I blinked twice, my spine straightening. I smoothly opened the door just wide enough for me to stand directly between him and my room, knowing that Christina had probably already dropped whatever she had been doing to try and figure out who had knocked. I loved her dearly, but her penchant for gossip could get on my nerves, sometimes, and I definitely did not need rumors of Arin being in my room spreading around.

“Oh,” I began, crossing my arms as I leaned against the door frame, painfully aware of my half-complete appearance at the moment. I was dressed for dinner, my hair done, but my makeup wasn’t finished. At least I wasn’t still in my glasses. “Good evening! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The smile he offered me in return was tense, as if he was just as confused by this interaction as I was. Why would he be though? He had been the one to come here, after all. It wasn’t as if I’d invited him.

Maybe it was revenge for me showing up to his office unannounced, the last time we had spoken.

“Hey, Evalin” he started, his slightly forced smile still in place. “Are you busy?”

“Don’t miss dinner,” I head Grace mumble from within the room, her tone teasing. “Lady Reggie will never let you hear the end of it.”

I quickly turned to look at her over my shoulder, hoping Arin hadn’t heard what she’d said. If he was here, it had to be important. Was that why he seemed so uncomfortable - had something bad happened? It had been a few nights since that awkward conversation I had had with my father. Anything could have happened in these past few days.

My heart was racing as I turned back to him, not even bothering to cover up the concern I was sure was evident on my face. “No, not at the moment! What’s going on?”

He glanced down at his watch. “I was wondering if you'd want to do something with me.”

I reached up to fiddle with the small, bird-shaped charm on my necklace, needing something to do with my hands. The memory of being in his office was still fresh in my mind. It shouldn’t have been as big of a deal as I was making it out to be, but I was still confused over what exactly he felt for me - if he felt anything at all. If he was asking me to go somewhere with him, he likely didn’t dislike me, but that still didn’t quite make up for the other instances in which he had acted like he wished I didn’t exist.

I pursed my lips, considering his offer further. Maybe, doing whatever he wanted to do would offer me some clarity. I met his gaze, flashing him a half smile as I finally gave him an answer. “Sure!”

“Okay,” he replied, nodding. “Do you want to get changed and I’ll meet you at the car?”

“Sure,” I repeated, starting to turn around, but then stopping in my tracks to look over my shoulder at him. “Is there a dress code I should know about?” I wouldn’t press him for details he wasn’t going to give readily, but I didn’t want to show up wherever we were going looking outlandishly out of place.

“Nothing too fancy,” he answered, taking a step backwards. His words lacked conviction, though. Another date planned by someone else for you, then. Why I even expected anything else at this point was becoming a mystery to me.

My mother’s voice rang through my mind, reminding me to mind my manners. He was trying to be better, after all - he had told me as much. I should give him the benefit of the doubt. It was only fair.

So I nodded once, glancing back inside my room at my maids, who were now buzzing about my room, throwing together what I could only guess was a new outfit. I was doing this, then.

I turned back to Arin, offering him a small smile as I began to close the door. “Okay, I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes, then.”

Once I shut the door all the way, I leaned back against it, eyes closed as I exhaled heavily. When I reopened them, I saw Julia inclining her head as she looked at me, her eyes narrowed slightly as she laid a dark blue dress out on top of my bed. “Are you not excited?”

“No, I am,” I answered, pushing myself off of the door and making my way towards where she stood, Grace and Christina already getting started on unzipping the dress I was in now and applying makeup as soon as I came to a stop. “I just wasn’t expecting this, is all.”

“Not a fan of surprises?” Grace mused, placing my original dress on a hanger.

“No,” I admitted, shaking my head and stepping into the dress Julia had chosen. But that isn’t why I’m like this right now.

As soon as she had zipped up the dress, Julia made quick work of my hair, undoing the bun she had worked so painstakingly on earlier to make perfect, brushing my curls over my left shoulder. She left my jewelry in tact, the silver bird necklace still clasped around my neck as she handed me a pair of heels, leaving me to do my best to put them on without moving my face as Christina applied some eye shadow with her index finger.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Julia’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as she placed some of my flyaway hairs back in place. I must’ve seemed like a nervous wreck. The thing was, I wasn’t nervous - more just apprehensive. My last date with Arin had gone so poorly, and I didn’t need to repeat that. Not unless he was intent on sending me home.

I just shook my head, forcing a smile on my face. “Not unless you happen to have a shot of espresso on hand,” I joked with a weak laugh.

“We could send for one,” Grace offered, her tone dead serious.

I shook my head, laughing a little and waving my hand through the air. “I don’t think we have enough time for that.”

“Of course,” Julia agreed, huffing a sigh and placing her hands on her hips, looking me up and down one last time before shooing me towards the door. “You don’t want to be late.”

I nodded as she practically shoved me into the hallway, closing my bedroom door behind me. Taking the first step down the hall, after that, my body went on autopilot, my legs leading me down the hall and the stairs while my thoughts led me in a whole different direction. My last conversation with Idalia came to mind, her advice plastered to the walls of mind like graffiti. Should I even bother asking Arin where we stood? He probably wouldn’t answer, anyway.

Stop. For once, he was doing something nice, for me. Or, at least I thought he was. I shouldn’t let my own worries about outside subjects ruin that for either of us. I should take a number out of Jen’s book, and do my best to fake it, to have a good time, enjoy myself, even if this wasn’t meant to last.

I deserved a little happiness.

The evening air was cool against the bare skin of my arms as I stepped outside, a small grin on my face. Arin’s car was already waiting, the engine turning over as soon as he caught sight of me from the driver’s seat. Where was he taking me? Out to dinner, maybe - the timing made sense for that. Yet, that lacked the usual thought and effort put into every other detail of the Selection.

So, something else, then. I wracked my brain, trying to think of a common interest that had come up in any of our conversations. We both had an interest in history - so were we going to a museum? That would make more sense than the other interest that had come to mind, which was razor clams. We were both far too dressed up for the beach.

I smiled at him as I opened the passenger side door, pulling it closed behind me after I had slid inside. Buckling my seatbelt, I laughed, remember how dreadful my last experience in this car had been. “I promise to try and not get a nosebleed this time, so long as you don’t fall down again,” I joked, hoping it might break the tension between us somewhat. When had things become so awkward between us? When I took Hugo’s advice, and asked him about the ballet? When we had kissed in the library? When he had mentioned Felicity?

Maybe it had always just been this awkward.

He smiled, but said nothing in reply, looking ahead as he began to pull out of the driveway. That was fine, I supposed. It was important that he not crash the car. I didn’t particularly want to die tonight.

At least, not yet. We’d have to see how this date went, first.

I peered behind me for a moment, expecting to see the guard from our roller skating date in the seat behind me. I’d heard rumors that his name was Kevin. However, Kevin - if that was truly his name - was nowhere to be found, replaced by a different guard that I didn’t recognize. Mildly disappointed, for no real reason at all, I turned back to the windshield, staring at the sky as the car slowly made its way down the driveway. It was a beautiful evening, a few picturesque clouds littering the sky, but not enough to stop the sun from coating the landscape in a warm yellow light.

Still smiling, I peered at Arin out of the corner of my eye. He didn’t appear to be in a bad mood, but I still didn’t want to take any risks that might ruin this. One more slip up, and I was done for, for sure.

Why did I even want to be here, if every step I took stressed me out?

I didn’t care to linger on the question.

“Dare I ask where we’re going this time?” I asked him instead, hoping he’d at least give me a hint. The suspense and anticipation were starting to get to me.

“We're going somewhere you'll like, I think,” was all he said in answer, his eyes still glued to the road that was leading us down to the gates.

Well, that’s less of a non-answer than usual. I opened my mouth a little, wanting to ask him for more details, but I stopped myself before any words left my mouth. He was doing something nice for me, taking me somewhere he’d thought I’d like, and I didn’t want this to be yet another bittersweet memory. We’d made enough of those recently to laugh me a lifetime. Why was talking to him like walking barefoot and trying to avoid stepping on shards of glass? Between all of our previous interactions, and the way he’d just shut down if I said one wrong thing, even if I didn’t know what I’d said to upset him, I just didn’t know what to expect from him anymore. If I kept my mouth shut, though, I couldn’t say anything wrong.

So I did just that, glancing between the windshield and the passenger side window at the scenery we passed, the buildings, the sky, and occasionally the ocean. The novelty of it all hadn’t worn off on me yet, though I was sure it had on some of the other girls. Clemence and Idalia left the palace almost daily. This was only the second time I had, though. The city itself was entirely new to me, a landscape yet unexplored, memories waiting to be made.

Some people came every day, though. Maybe I could too. Maybe I should take Leana’s advice, and see if he could help me in my predicament. Maybe I could enroll in the biochemistry lab course I needed at Angeles University.

Just as I finally had worked up the courage to ask, though, the car began to slow to a stop. I blinked, quickly drinking in as much of our surroundings as I could. We were pulling into a parking spot that had clearly been blocked off for us. Around us were throngs of well-dressed people, chatting and laughing as they made there way towards the performance hall we had parked near.

A performance hall, for something he thought I would like. Surely he hadn’t. My eyes went wide as the puzzle pieces began to latch together, painting a picture I hadn’t even thought to consider.

“We’re here,” he announced, shutting off the car and looking over at me.

I turned back to him, my grin so wide it almost ached. “I thought you said…” I trailed off, shaking my head as I unbuckled my seatbelt. All that fuss before the proposal submission about him not liking the ballet, about it not being his thing, about how I should ask Safiya to take me, and here we were. I didn’t wait for him to open the door for me, still to in shock to think straight as I stepped out of the car.

I stood there for a moment, just drinking it all in - the lights, the people, the excitement in the air - only vaguely registering the sound of Arin’s car door closing behind me. The last ballet I had been to had felt like the grandest event in the world, but compared to this, it seemed almost insignificant. I had just turned nine, and had insisted to my parents that I didn’t want a birthday party. The only people who would’ve come anyway were my family and June, and at that point, why bother spending the money on a party? So instead, my mother had told me that my grandfather - her father - had said that he wanted to treat me and Lydia to a special weekend, in honor of my birthday. He had picked us up early from school, driving Lydia and I the four hours to the house my mother had grown up in, where my grandmother had had nice dresses waiting for the two of us. As soon as we had changed, we got back into the car, driving another hour east until we hit Raleigh, where my grandfather revealed that he and my parents had pooled their money for three tickets to the Carolina Ballet’s production of Giselle.

It was one of my favorite memories, even to this day. I hadn’t known that people were capable of combining that level of athleticism with artistic expression before that moment. According to my grandfather, I had been leaning so far forward in my seat the entire time, so enraptured by the story playing out before my eyes, that I had almost fallen out of my chair. I had been so upset by him saying that, that I had argued with him nearly the entire hour back to his house. In hindsight, I wished I hadn’t. It was one of the last times I had ever seen him.

I blinked again, realizing that Arin now stood by my side, his hand extended towards me. Interlocking my fingers with his, I looked up at him, feeling my smile soften into something more earnest than excited. “Thank you,” I said, pouring every ounce of sincerity I had within me into the words. “Really, this means so much to me.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he replied, shrugging. With that, he squeezed my hand, his grip neither vice-like nor bone crushing, but rather almost surprisingly gentle. His hand was warmer than I had expected too.

I smiled as he led us away from the car, towards the entrance of the performance hall. I simply could not get enough of it, all other thoughts completely erased from my mind. Worries, fears, cares - what were they again? Did they even exist? All I knew was my wide eyes, my grin that stretched from ear to ear, how excited I was to see the ballet, and how nice it felt to hold Arin’s hand.

Right, he was here too, even though this wasn’t his thing, according to him. He had elected to suck that up for me, though. Why? Had he been put up to it by somebody else, or, better yet, did he actually care enough about whatever we had between us to make an effort?

Something like that went both ways, right? By that logic, I should make an effort to make this experience as enjoyable as possible for him as well.

I tore my gaze away from the performance hall, looking up at him, where he walked to my right. “I’m almost finished with that book you recommended, by the way! It’s very interesting, actually.” It wasn’t much, but I figured it was something, a token of gratitude just large enough to be recognized for what it was.

“Really?” His surprise was evident in his tone, his eyebrows furrowed in questioning as he looked back down at me.

“Yeah,” I answered with a nod, feeling a faint blush begin to color my cheeks. “Once I started, I could hardly put it down. I accidentally stayed up until two in the morning last night reading it,” I admitted, laughing a little at myself. At least in saying that, I had also unintentionally created a half-true explanation for why I might seem so tired. I meant what I had said about the book. It was interesting, and I had stayed up later than intended to, lost in the content of its words. It hadn’t been my intention to read it purely out of interest, though. Had it been boring, like I had kind of thought it would be, it might have put me to sleep. Curse Arin for having good taste in books.

“It definitely wasn’t at all what I expected it to be,” I added after a moment, “but I think that just made it more interesting.” Especially since it was about a portion of history that we so rarely got to touch on in history classes. Most of the courses I had taken in both high school and college had glossed over everything after the 1970s, if we even made it that far in the curriculum by the end of the semester. All I had really known about the 2020s prior to reading his book had been World War III, riots over social injustice, and of course, the global pandemic that had occurred early in the decade. Even at that, I lacked knowledge of the context surrounding those situations.

“I’m really glad you liked it. It’s not for everyone.” He came to a stop as we reached the doors, smiling at me as he let go of my hand to hold the door.

“Thank you.” I walked through the entrance, trying not to lose track of the conversation at hand as I took in the architecture of the building itself. The whole entryway was alight with a golden glow from the chandelier hanging in the center of the room, the tint complimenting the gold accents on the carpets that covered the floor. Closer towards the main doors, at the other end of the room, were two marble staircases, sweeping dramatically upwards towards what I could only assume were private boxes that must’ve cost a fortune.

“Girls, take a seat on the stairs, quickly.” My grandfather let go of my hand, placing his hand on my back instead, gently nudging me towards the staircase. “I want to take a picture to send to your mother.”

I giggled, grabbing Lydia’s hand and swinging it back and forth as I more or less skipped towards the stairs, turning on the ball of my foot when I reached them, and gently plopping myself down on the third step from the floor. She laughed through her nose at my antics, taking a seat to my left with all the grace of the ballerinas we were about to watch. I leaned over towards Lydia, my head just in front of her shoulder, smiling as my grandfather readied his phone to take the picture.

I had turned out looking absolutely wild. My hair was frizzy, my smile had led me to squint so much that my eyes were almost shut, and to top it all off, I had been missing a tooth at the time. I wasn’t sure I had ever looked happier, though.

I looked over my shoulder at Arin, forcing my mind back into the present. “But, yes, it was very interesting. Especially since it wasn’t that long ago, when you really think about it. I mean, when you sent me the name of the title, I realized it was only six years before my own father was born, which blew my mind for a moment.”

With a few large steps, he caught back up with me, taking hold of my hand once again as the crowd pressed in around us, leading us towards the auditorium doors like a tidal wave. The contact settled something within me that I hadn’t even realized was stirring, like an anchor in a stormy sea. I marveled at it, peering down at his hand. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. It wasn’t as if I would see it clothed in some magical glow, that would somehow explain how he had this effect on me. He was just a man, after all. A man with a fancy title, sure, but a man nonetheless.

I couldn’t be this head-over-heels already. That was enough to scare any man away. Hadn’t I been conflicted about this only minutes ago? I simply couldn’t feel that strongly for him.

“My grandfather remembered the war,” he admitted, his expression growing distant.

Oh, crap. The last time his family had come up in conversation had been our date, right as it started going downhill. Abort mission. Change the subject.

I shot him a sympathetic smile, making sure to keep my voice low as I spoke. “My grandfather refused to talk about it. Not that I can blame him, though, at all.” He fought in it actually. Maybe you’ve heard of him - Edvard Berg? No, now was not the time to open up that can of worms. I didn’t know many of the specifics of my grandfather’s life before he had moved to Swendway. My parents had always kept that information hush hush, under lock and key, and for good reason, I was sure. All I knew for sure was that he had been a naval engineer, and possibly even somewhat of an inventor, though the details on that were kind of unclear to me. That, and I knew that he had been the one to propose leaving Swendway to my grandmother and my father, twenty years after the third World War. I had hypothesized about why he had elected to leave, but I couldn’t confirm or deny any of my theories, given a lack of evidence and information from him and my father. One day, soon, maybe, I’d have to ask for more details.

Arin opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the ushers announcing the final call for people to enter before they closed the doors. I was about to pull him forward, not realizing how close we had been to being late, but he began pulling me in the other direction, inclining his head towards the stairs. Of course his family would have a private box. I should’ve known that.

I looked upwards, using my hand to shield my eyes from the bright stage lights beaming down on us. There were people on the balconies upstairs. Why? They were so far from the stage! Could they even see the dancers from up there?

“Grandpa,” I began, tugging a little on the sleeve of his suit. “Who sits up there?”

He followed my gaze upwards for a moment before turning back to me, his expression grim as he answered, “Important people.”

I frowned. “But you’re important! You’re my grandpa!” I leaned to the left, nudging him with my shoulder. My words earned an appreciative chuckle from the couple behind us, but I didn’t find them funny at all. What made those people more important than the rest of us? We were all here, right now, for the same reason.

“Yet, I couldn’t even afford these tickets on my own,” he mumbled under his breath, looking down at the bulletin the usher had given us.

I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to have heard what he had said, but my frown only deepened anyways. “Why didn’t you and grandma become Threes when mother became a Three, when she married father?”

He made a sound then that sounded like something halfway between a cough and someone choking. Even Lydia leaned forwards in her seat, her brown eyes wide as they met mine. She shook her head. My grandfather, however just looked down at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s just not how it works, Evvy.”

“Why not?” Surely, he’d be able to afford tickets to the ballet if he was a Three like mother and father, and me and my siblings.

“Hush now, the show is about to begin.”

I almost had to run to keep up with Arin, my smile growing nonetheless, even as we began to ascend the steps, my thighs protesting with each step. Starting my run earlier meant I’d end up running longer than usual, apparently. I’d stopped tracking my distance since being here, just running until my head was clear, and I felt more prepared to take on the day. This groggy morning, it had taken me until just after sunrise to get to that point.

Once we were up the stairs, Arin’s guard trailing a few feet behind us, he led me down a hallway, past numerous sets of closed double doors. For someone who didn’t like the ballet, it sure seemed like he knew where he was going, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Maybe he had been given specific instructions beforehand, though.

He didn’t stop until the last set of doors, where an usher stood, alert, two programs in his hands. Arin entered first, grabbing one of the programs on his way in. I followed suit, thanking the usher quickly before turning my head forwards to size up the private box. The view wasn’t terrible, in fact, it was rather amazing, but it was a little more off to the side than I was used to. There were only two rows of chairs, all empty, but still just as close together as I remembered the ones in the main auditorium of the Carolina ballet being. The only thing I could see being an issue was the lighting, which was dimmer up here than it was downstairs. Even with glasses or contact lenses, I was as blind as a bat in poor lighting.

Arin kept his grip on my hand as he led us to two seats in the middle of the first row, the door softly closing shut behind us. I took my seat, realizing that the poor lighting up here might actually prove to be an advantage, because it was easier for me to focus on the well lit stage, where I could actually see what was happening.

I still couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Wow.” My voice was little more than a loud, breathless whisper as I turned to Arin, shaking my head and grinning like a bobcat. “The view is incredible!”

He squeezed my hand in response, but then let go, flipping through the pages of his program. The air conditioned air around my hand felt colder than it should have. It was as if my hand was frozen. I couldn’t move it off the armrest shared by our chairs.

He glanced over at me, now on the third page of his program. “Have you seen this one before?”

Right, the program. I somehow had to read that in this lighting. I picked up my own program, squinting as my eyes strained to make out the title on the cover. He must have thought I was illiterate, or something, having a hard time reading something typed in black, in a large font, on a white page. Seconds seemed to last an eternity as I finally made out the words. Don Quixote.

I shook my head, already feeling an ache starting behind my eyes. “No, I haven’t. I’ve heard of it, though - all good things!” Looking over at him, I smiled. In all honesty, it was probably the best ballet he could have been forced to see. I couldn’t imagine him making it all the way through something like Sleeping Beauty, or Romeo and Juliet. He’d probably fall asleep before intermission, and then I’d curse the rules against flash photography, wishing I could snap a picture and send it to Idalia with the message, “we’re even.”

He nodded, pointing to something written on the front cover in a smaller font than the title. “I think this choreographer is supposed to be good.”

I’d take his word for it. There was no way in hell I was going to waste five minutes of our time trying to read the name. “I can’t wait!” With a nod, I turned to him, feeling my smile soften as I took in the apprehension on his face. He looked like he was trying so hard to hide it, for my sake. “I think you might find this one rather tolerable, at least. It’s based off of the book Don Quixote - I’m sure you’ve at least heard it mentioned in a history or English course?”

I saw him nod before the lights dimmed further, obscuring my vision even more. “I’ve read it before. It wasn’t too bad, but not my favorite.” A pause, then, “But I’m sure it’s different in ballet form.”

“It’s abridged,” I confirmed with a nod of my own. The only thing I could see at this point was the stage, and the very edges of the orchestra seated in front of it. They all sat at the ready, their conductor just beginning to make his way to his stand. In another timeline, was this the kind of job my mother could have been doing? Was this the kind of job I could have been doing? I had never had a natural inclination towards creating music, but if it was one of the only career options I had had, I believed I likely would have put more effort into mastering it. Who would I even have been, in this world where biology wasn’t my passion? It was near impossible to imagine.

My lips tugged upwards into a smile as I recalled one detail about this ballet that a friend of my mother’s had shared with me once. “They kept the part where he fights the windmill, though.”

I felt him lean in closer then, wrapping my hand in his once more. I resisted the urge to let out a sigh at that. I needed to get a grip.

“How could you cut that part?” He whispered.

I turned towards him briefly, nodding as I grinned into the darkness around me. “It’s inarguably the best part.”

The first notes of the introduction began to sweep through the air then, and a hush fell over the crowd below us as the strings slowly began their initial crescendo. I let my focus be taken over by the music and the dancers beginning to make their appearance on the stage, each move they made carefully calculated and executed, and yet somehow, still effortless. It didn’t take much for me to get wrapped up in the story. Much like Arin, it seemed, I hadn’t cared much for the book version of Don Quixote. The ballet, however, had snared my attention like it was nothing, especially as the dancer playing the role of Kitri came on stage. If only I could ever possess that level of grace and talent. I understood she had definitely dedicated a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to become this skilled at her craft, but there was no denying that some people were born with an innate predisposition for some skills - such as athletics, music, or academics.

Time flew after that, and before I knew it, the lights began coming back up, signalling the start of intermission. It felt like being woken up from a good dream, the kind that you wished you could pick right back up from where you left off the instant you fell back asleep. I blinked, my eyes taking a second to readjust to actually being able to see more than just one set point. The first thing I noticed was the flurry of activity below us, people scurrying about like ants on an anthill, rushing in and out to fetch refreshments for their friends and family. The second thing I noticed, as I looked over to my side, was Arin, glancing over right back at me. I couldn’t help but wonder how much time he had actually spend watching the ballet, and how much he had spent looking at me, while I couldn’t see him. The thought made my heart speed up a bit, and my face grow a little hot.

I shifted in my chair, in order to face him more fully, grinning from ear to ear. “I cannot thank you enough for this.”

“You like it?” He squeezed my hand, the sensation grounding me back in reality further.

I squeezed his back, my smile growing wider, if that was even possible. “I love it.”

The corners of his own lips tugged upwards then, a small smile of his own flitting into existence. “Well, I’m glad. It should be enjoyed.”

“Yes,” I began, squeezing his hand yet again. What else could I even say? He likely didn’t want to be regaled with my thoughts on Basilio’s treatment of Kitri, or the foolishness of Don Quixote’s actions. He’d probably already heard as much from whatever teacher he’d had to read the book for. “I agree.”

He looked forward then, peering over the railing of the balcony at the crowds down below.

The lights coming back on awoke me from my stupor. I rubbed the last of my tears out of my eyes, hoping that my grandfather hadn’t seen me begin to cry when Giselle had died. She had deserved so much better! She had finally found her true love, her soulmate, only for her heart to give out right then and there? How could that be right?

People began to stand up from their seats, pressing against each other in the aisles on either side of the row we sat in. My grandfather began to do the same, turning around to face Lydia and I as he stood. “I’m going to get some water. Do you girls want anything?”

“Peanut M&Ms?” Lydia asked, smiling widely and clasping her hands together a few inches below her chin.

Grandfather sighed. “So long as you don’t make a mess of your dress. Your mother and your grandmother would both kill me.” He shook his head, and then fixed his eyes on me. “Ev?”

“I’m good,” I answered with a shake of my head. “Thank you.”

“Alright.” He began to scoot his way down the aisle, grinning down at us as he passed by. “I’d better hurry. I don’t want to miss the second act, now do I?”

“Well, they’re all in a hurry, aren’t they?”

I bit my lip, glancing over the edge of the balcony as well, a small close lipped smile forming at the memory of my grandfather’s words. “I guess they don’t want to miss the second act.”

“I’d be in a hurry too, I guess,” Arin replied, his tone insincere as he raised his eyebrows.

He was really trying so hard to pretend to not be bored to death by all of this, that it was almost sad. Glancing back at him now, I sighed. This had been a real treat, for sure, but I had no intention of torturing Arin, especially since he had already been on so many dates he hadn’t wanted to go on. Yes, both those and this had been in part by his own doing, but one of us had to be willing to meet the other halfway.

“Look, Arin,” I started, shooting him a sympathetic smile, “I cannot stress enough how great this has been, and how much you doing this has meant to me, but I really don’t want to be the one to force you to sit through the second act if you don't want to.” We both knew full well he didn’t want to. I had to laugh. “It’s really okay.”

To my surprise, he shook his head. “No, really, it’s fine. You’re enjoying yourself, and it wouldn’t be fair to leave.”

Well, I gave him an out. It’s not my fault he didn’t take it.

My smile grew slightly, and I squeezed his hand, my voice little more than a whisper to my own ears as I said, “Thank you.”

Once again, he dropped my hand, looking away as he stood up and began to stretch. First his arms, then his legs, finishing with his back, before turning around and taking a seat on the floor, facing me, his back against the wall of the balcony.

I chuckled a little at that. What would the people of Illea say if they saw their crown prince sitting on the floor when there were perfectly good chairs available for him? Not that I could blame him. I was often guilty of sitting on the floors of hallways in my school, outside of my classrooms, reading my notes in an attempt to cram that last bit of information into my brain before taking an exam.

“How’s the view down there?” I leaned forwards, bracing my elbows on my knees, interlocking my fingers. If only he was holding my hand instead. Am I that touch starved?

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes locking onto mine. “Stunning. How’s the view from up there.”

Stunning.

I almost kissed him again, right then and there.

Instead, I smiled, feeling my blush deepen at my own thoughts. “Pretty incredible.” What was I, twelve? Was I going to ask him if he like-liked me next?

He dropped my eye contact the, sighing as he glanced down at his watch. I was beginning to get the sense that this was the most enjoyable part of the night to him. With a sigh, he announced, “We have thirteen more minutes.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, unable to get a read on how he felt about that. “And is there something in particular you’d like to do with those thirteen minutes?”

He simply shrugged, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling.

Oh, no. We were not doing this. Not now, in the few minutes where we would actually be able to talk, in the few minutes he might actually look back upon fondly. Rolling my eyes, I pushed myself out of my chair, sliding down the balcony wall until I was seated on the floor next to him, smoothing out my skirts once I was still. Upon finishing that, I followed his gaze upwards towards the ceiling tiles. There was nothing particularly interesting about them, that I could discern, at least. They were just your average, everyday ceiling tiles, sometimes spaced out to make space for larger stage lights. Was he trying to blind himself by looking into the lights before the second act? I’d have to give him points for creativity, if that was the case.

“Well, hello there.”

I looked over, finding him looking right back at me, his eyes wide with surprise. I had startled him again, so it would seem. “Right back at you,” I replied, chuckling as I playfully nudged him with my shoulder. The gesture wasn’t rough at all - really, he probably shouldn’t have even felt more than a light tap.

“What is it with you guys and hitting me?”

Who’s been hitting him? Isn’t that against the rules.

He mustn’t mean on purpose then, or rather, not with the intent to cause harm or damage. I was beginning to get the idea of what he meant. Laughing lightly, I raised an eyebrow at him. “I take it Idalia’s gotten to you, then?”

He chuckled. Bingo. “She has.”

I loved being right.

Laughing along, I shook my head, glancing at Arin out of the corner of my eyes as I thought over the last conversation I had had with Idalia. “Classic Idalia. She hit me with her pillow at least three times the last time we spoke.”

“And just think -” he shook his head “- she knows how to use swords.”

I chuckled, fairly certain that actual fencers didn’t refer to them as “swords,” but rather as “weapons,” but I didn’t have the heart to correct him. Besides, who knew - maybe Idalia did know how to use real swords! I wouldn’t put it past her. “I’m glad she and I generally get along very well, for that reason.” You might want to be a little scared, though, Arin. Our opinions on you differ greatly, it seems.

The thought crossed my mind then, of the possibility of the two of them fighting. Not just bickering, or arguing, but seriously feuding, to the point where they asked other people to take sides before sorting their own issues with each other out. Whose side would I take in that scenario? My past actions, in insisting that we prank Arin after he had been such a dick to Idalia on their date, suggested that the likely answer was Idalia, but our last conversation had left me rather uncertain. She had almost made me cry. To be fair, I was sure she hadn’t intended for that to happen, and I truly believed she was just trying to look out for me, and yet, as horrible as Arin had been on that first date, I had never come close to crying.

That likely said more about me than it did about either of them, though.

Arin nodded. “She’s something.”

“That seems to be your descriptor of choice,” I pointed out, chucking as I turned my head to look at him. I would admit, I had perused his social media a bit every now and again, and almost invariably, whenever someone asked him his thoughts on a topic or a person, his answer would be that it was something.

Apparently, this was news to him. “Does it?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at me.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think we’ve made it through conversation without you describing something or someone as, ‘something,’ or without me apologizing. We should start a penny jar, or something like that, to keep a tally.”

“Really?” He asked, frowning.

Oh, no, is he upset? That hadn’t been my intention at all. God, why did this always happen? I had stopped walking on eggshells for one moment, and here we were.

It was kind of exhausting.

Or maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking.

“I mean,” I began, my smile faltering, despite my efforts to keep myself together, “the penny jar part was a joke.”

“I got that,” he stated with a nod.

“Okay,” I began, clearing my throat as I tried in vain to figure out what he hadn’t understood, “but, yeah, my point still stands. I genuinely am not certain we’ve made it through a conversation without one or both of those things being said.”

“Well, maybe it’s just the way I talk.”

It was more likely that it had simply been the way he was taught to talk, but I felt like that was a conversation best saved for another time. He already appeared to feel so attacked by this surface-level discussion of the subject. Nice going, Evalin.

My face had completely fallen by this point, a frown replacing what had previously been a wide smile. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just something I’ve noticed, I guess.”

“Something,” he repeated, a flicker of a smile on his face and a hint of amusement in his voice.

Lord, help me. I truly understood why his mother was so fond of wine, now.

“That word sure is something,” I repeated back with a small laugh.

“What else would you like me to say then?”

“I don’t know.” I pursed my lips, considering it, but ultimately, I just ended up shrugging. “I guess sometimes it’d be nice to hear more of your thoughts and opinions on things.”

My conversation with Idalia came back to mind. Was I just another, “something,” to him? I wouldn’t be surprised if I was. He had started out with thirty-five girls, and had narrowed it down to fourteen, but I knew that wasn’t entirely of his own doing. He must have been given advice on who to eliminate, and who to keep, and why. There was no other way to justify the mass elimination that had occurred after the brief thirty-minute interview we had had with him early on in the Selection.

“Well,” he began, raising his eyebrows, “in my opinion, this has been my favorite part of the night so far.”

Just as I had suspected. Still, I wasn’t necessarily disappointed by that fact. If anything, the thought of me being the highlight of his night made my heart beat a little faster. Raising my eyebrows, I cast my gaze downwards, interlocking my fingers with his one again. Almost instantly, something within me clicked into place yet again, as if this was so inexplicably right. Gently, I gave his hand a squeeze, whispering, “I’m glad.”

“It’s really not so bad,” he assured me, squeezing my hand in return. I swore my heart fluttered. Why was I like this?

I laughed a little at what he said, knowing it was a blatant lie, and unable to stop myself from presenting him with a way out yet again. “I respect how hard you’re trying to get through this for me, but my offer still stands -” I leaned over a bit, peering down at his watch “- though this may be your last chance to get out of here before the second act.”

“Maybe I don’t actually want to leave,” he replied, shrugging. “There’s this girl in the audience that has the most adorable reactions to ballet.”

Stunning, adorable - I hope he knows I’m keeping a list.

“Oh really?” I smirked at him, raising both of my eyebrows this time. “You’ll have to point her out.”

He tilted his head a little to the side, a small smile making its home on his face. “She’s wearing blue, and she’s hard to miss.”

I couldn’t resist. “And why’s that?”

He raised his eyebrows at me now. “Because I've never seen anyone look that happy while watching someone fight windmills.”

I leaned back, looking up as I laughed. He had been watching me throughout the ballet, then, and I was quite literally too blind to even notice. I was surprised he had even noticed that the fight with the windmills had even occurred. Maybe he had only known about that scene because I had mentioned it earlier, though. As much as I wished it didn’t, that option made a good deal of sense.

I turned to face him again, intent on just carrying on the conversation. “She sounds like quite the girl.”

“She’s not too bad,” he replied with a small shrug.

I leaned a little closer to him, raising an eyebrow. “I would sure hope she’s not.”

“I don’t think she is.” His smile grew a fraction of an inch, but I’d take it. It was still better than a frown, or a scowl.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I replied, my own smile growing in response to his, “Sure would be a shame if you spent that much time focusing on her, otherwise.”

“And why’s that?” He asked, raising his eyebrows yet again.

I leaned in a little closer, chuckling lightly. “Well, you wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“Well,” he began, his smile growing a bit more. At this right, he might have a full smile by the time we left here tonight. What a success that would be! “I try to avoid spending time with people I dislike, so I doubt I'd have taken her to the ballet if I didn't like her.”

The floodgates of my mind burst open then, my conversation with Idalia a few weeks ago hitting me at full force. Hey, at least that means he must like you. Apparently, he did. You could always ask him. I hadn’t had to, it seemed. I’d literally teased the fact that he maybe, sort of liked me out of him. Do you think he cares about you? Yes, I was almost sure of it, now.

I exhaled, my smile only growing more as the breath left my lungs. “Thank you.”

“It’s only a few hours. I will live.” He just shook his head, but I thought nothing of it. Just as I wasn’t a mind reader, neither was he. There was no way for him to know what that one little sentence he had just said, probably without even thinking about it, meant to me.

“Yeah, I know, but still.” I sighed a little, leaning my head on his shoulder, staring ahead at nothing in particular. I didn’t even care if the second act started while we sat here, if I was being entirely honest. Just sitting, touching, like this, felt good. Right. I wanted to capture this moment, and freeze it in time, like a scene in a snowglobe.

He rested his own head against mine. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, now,” I answered, shaking my head as much as I could without disturbing his. “Sorry, I was just thinking about a conversation I had last week, but it’s irrelevant now.” The questions that had plagued me now had answers, and ones that I liked, at that.

“Conversation?”

“It was nothing, really,” I reassured him, giving his hand another squeeze. “It’s unimportant, now. I mean it.”

“Are you sure?” His voice was softer when he spoke this time, his concern genuine, and more than simply laced in with his words.

Do you think he cares about you? Yes, I could honestly say I did.

“Yes.” I moved a little closer to him, readjusting my head slightly so that it fit a tad more comfortably on his shoulder. “What you said earlier resolved it.”

“Okay.” He didn’t sound confident, but he didn’t press me further, which I was fine with. I didn’t need my own uncertainty to spoil this moment, especially not with the newfound clarity it had brought me. He liked me - enough to want to spend time with me, even.

It was a pretty low bar, but it was still better than the worst case scenario my mind had come up with over the past few days.

I sighed, squeezing his hand in what I hoped he would understand was a gesture of reassurance, and then dragged my gaze to the chairs that loomed in front of us. “We’re going to have to stand up soon, aren’t we?”

“We don't have to. I'm pretty content down here, honestly.”

“I will admit, I am pretty comfortable right now.” Not just down here, but with us - this starting point. I might not have had the political knowledge of Reggie, or the legal skills of Jen, or the confidence of Clemence, but I was still the one here, snuggled up with him, on the floor of the Angeles Ballet’s theater. I’d made it this far. I stood a chance of making it further.

He chuckled. “Somehow the floor is more comfortable than those chairs.”

“Agreed,” I said, laughing along. Those chairs had felt so spacious when I was a child, but now, I was of the opinion that they were not made with people over the height of five foot six in mind.

A small noise of contentment issued from him, the sound standing out against the noise wafting up from the general auditorium below, where I assumed people were making their way back to their seats, completely unaware of our existence at all. I kind of liked it that way. There was a sense of normalcy to it, that was a luxury we didn’t have much of nowadays. You knew what you signed up for.

I did know, I realized as I shifted my head slightly, hoping the motion didn’t disturb him too much. “This has really been the nicest evening I’ve had in a long while.”

“Really?” Was that teasing I detected in his voice? “I thought that time we went roller skating was nice.”

“I do remember the part where you fell rather fondly,” I admitted, laughing quietly.

He let out a loud groan at that. “Thanks for the reminder.”

I had to laugh. I couldn’t help it. That moment would be something I’d never let him live down, even if we didn’t end up together at the end of the Selection. “Anytime!”

“I'm glad I made an impression.” I couldn’t see his reaction from our current position, but I was willing to bet that he had rolled his eyes.

That’s one way to put it. I exhaled heavily through my nose, the noise that ensued somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m sure my nosebleed made quite the impression on you.”

He lifted his head then, looking down at me as he shook it. “No, actually I'd totally forgotten about that.”

How? I lifted my own head now, narrowing my eyes at him as I moved it off of his shoulder. “Well, that’s nice to hear,” I admitted, averting my gaze to our hands. “I was honestly mortified about that.” I hated how soft my voice had gotten towards the end of my sentence.

“Why?” His look now mirrored my own - eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. “It's not like you had any control over it.”

“I know that, but -” I sighed. Would there ever come a day when verbalizing my thoughts or emotions wouldn’t prove to be such a challenge? “- it’s not exactly like it was an ideal scenario, and the date itself had already been so rocky, and just combined with what had happened that morning, it was just not how I had wanted the day to end, I suppose.”

You know he doesn’t love you, right?

I was tired of letting Lukas’s phone call from that morning loom over my interactions, like the spectre of a friend long forgotten, and yet, I couldn’t figure out how to stop thinking about it. It was as if his voice was trapped in my head, and I wanted to let it out, but I wasn’t strong enough to undo any of the locks on the windows of my mind. I had blocked his number. I had determined I didn’t care about him. So why was I letting his words get to me, weeks after I’d hung up the phone on him?

“But it was still out of your control,” Arin insisted. “Don't focus on it too much. We just saw a man fight windmills and you're worried about something that happened a couple months ago.”

If only he knew.

I kept my gaze on our hands, unsure of how to proceed. I had a few options here. I could come clean with him, entirely, and stop the secrets between us, at least on my side. That might make communication clearer, easier. Alternatively, I could continue to ignore what was bothering me, until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I was approaching that breaking point, but I wasn’t quite there yet. I could hold out a little longer.

I blinked once, my decision made. Turning my head to look up towards him, I forced a smile on to my face. “I suppose you’re right. Too bad there no windmills around here, huh?”

The frown that formed on his face told me that I must have been an even worse actor than he thought he was. “Evalin, what's wrong?”

“Sorry.” I shook my head. It appeared that there was only one way this conversation was going to go, after all. Still, maybe I could mitigate the damage. We didn’t have enough time to dissect my life’s problems, nor did I want to burden Arin with them. He had enough going on on his own, without me potentially adding to it.

I’d keep it vague, then. “There’s just a lot going on back in Carolina with the professor I used to work for, and my family, and classes, and I’ve been trying not to think about it, but I think it’s all starting to catch up with me now.”

“You know you can take a break, right?” He leaned a bit closer, a note of genuine concern in his voice.

Why is my heart fluttering again?

I looked up at him, my brows furrowed. “How?”

“Well, it's summer, right?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t really change the situation,” I argued, shaking my head.

“Summer break?” He furrowed his brows in confusion, looking at me like I had grown a second head.

Yes, Arin, believe it or not, I know what summer break is.

I just continued shaking my head, looking up at him and taking a shaky breath as I attempted to keep my smile in place. I had to keep myself together. I would not fall apart in front of him. I would not unravel next to him on the floor of the Angeles Ballet. “The situation is a bit more complicated than just summer break. I’d explain it, but it’s a long story, and I don’t want to make you sit through that on top of this.” I punctuated my sentence with a gesture over the top of my head, towards the stage below us.

“Alright.” He pursed his lips, nodding once and then glancing away. “Sorry.”

My words must have come out all wrong. This wasn’t what I had intended to happen. That’s why you have to be honest with him, and tell him the whole truth. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to. The list of people I was willing to be that open with was short, and consistently decreasing in size. Idalia or Clemence, maybe, but the jury was still out there. Sometimes, I felt more burdened when I finished talking to them than I did before I spoke with them. Lydia, of course! We had shared a room for almost our entire lives. It was impossible to hide anything from her. June, because she was the most loyal person I knew, and I had complete faith that she would guard my secrets until the day she died. Yet, I hadn’t told her about Proctor, or Lukas, for that matter. I realized then that I also hadn’t told Lydia. That meant the only people who knew about Proctor and Lukas were my father, and Proctor and Lukas themselves - and even then, I hadn’t told my father all of the details.

My list had dwindled down to zero.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault!” I squeezed his hand lightly before pursing my lips. Maybe telling him something - even if it was vague, or only a part of the story - would help. “I can explain after the second act, if you want. It’d be a tad hypocritical of me to ask you to be more open, without being more open myself.”

“Alright,” he replied, nodding as he glanced down at his watch. “I guess it's probably going to start again soon.”

I leaned over, squinting at his watch in a futile attempt to make out the time. No luck. Between the glare of the lights, and the small size of the numerals on his watch, I really had never had a chance of seeing the time for myself. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. “That would make sense, I think.”

As if on cue, a little chime rang out through the speaker system, signalling for everyone to return to their seats, “Perfect timing, I guess,” Arin noted.

“Impeccable, really.” I began to scoot away from him, bracing my hands on the ground in preparation to stand back up. If I ever had access to a time machine, I was going to go back in time and have a chat with whoever had come up with the idea of high heels. They were inarguably the most impractical form of shoe I had encountered in my almost twenty-one years of life.

We settled back into our seats, the lights dimming once again as the company retook the stage for the second act. I let the production take me away once again, losing myself in the high pitched runs of the flute, and the complex turns and leaps of the dancers. By the time the second act was over, and the company was taking their final bows, all I knew outside of the stage itself was that I was smiling, and I was clapping.

Right, and Arin was still seated next to me. How had I almost forgotten that? I turned lo look at him then, offering him a small grin. “You survived.”

“Barely,” he retorted, rolling his eyes.

Smartass. I chuckled. “I hope the reactions of that girl in blue you mentioned earlier were as nice as you expected them to be.”

“Oh,” he began, a small smile playing on his lips, “they were very entertaining.”

So he had been watching me again, then. I liked that, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead, I simply smiled, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it as I thought back to our earlier conversation. I had agreed to open up to him - and I would hold up my end of the bargain - but was I just supposed to start speaking now? Would it be better to just wait until we were outside?

As I was debating what to do, he squeezed my hand in return, yawning. “Dinner?”

Those four seconds were filled with the most stereotypical “man things,” - the yawn, the thinking only of food - I had ever witnessed in one sitting. I didn’t know what else to do but laugh, and reply, “Sounds good!” In the thrill of coming here, I had forgotten all about the fact that we had missed dinner. I’d have to brace myself to be lectured by Reggie once again in the morning, over breakfast. Assuming I didn’t miss breakfast to run, again.

“Alright, then.” He stood up, practically dragging me with him, as we were still hand in hand. Still, I found I was kind of grateful for the help up. Sitting in the same position for so long had left my legs kind of cramped.

I rubbed my skirt with my free hands in an effort to smooth out any wrinkles before looking up at him again, and asking, “What were you thinking for dinner?”

“Honestly?” He chuckled. “I thought I'd just ask you want you felt like having.”

I hummed thoughtfully, biting the inside of my cheek as I thought about it. He wasn’t going to let my own indecisiveness slide, then. That was probably for the better, though. I needed to start stepping up, speaking up, and making decisions for myself. “I’m not super familiar with what’s around here, obviously, but I do like seafood.” I shrugged, offering him a smile before adding, “Really, though, I’m good with anything.”

“Seafood it is, then,” he decided with a nod, leading me out into the hallway, through the throngs of people attempting to do the same thing we were.

“Sounds good,” I replied, more focused on not losing my grip on him as the crowd swelled around us, than anything else. I knew I would be able to find the car, if need be, but it would just be easier if we stuck together. He must have had the same idea, because he held on to my hand firmly, even as he weaved in and out of the maze of people, practically just dragging me along for the ride.

As soon as the cool, night air of the outdoors his us, I exhaled, smiling in relief as I took in the open space before me. We continued walking towards the car, still hand in hand. A childish part of me was tempted to start swinging our hands back and forth, but I refrained, getting the sense he wouldn’t enjoy that very much.

I looked up at Arin. “I suppose it’s time for me to hold up my end of the bargain, then, and continue the conversation from intermission?”

“Only if you feel comfortable,” he answered, giving my hand a squeeze as he met my gaze.

A different memory came to the forefront of my mind as we continued making our way down the steps.

“I -” I cut myself off, shaking my head. I could feel how flaming red my face and the tips of my ears were, despite the cool winter wind nipping at my exposed skin. “I’m too embarrassed by it.”

Lukas narrowed his eyes, the creases in his forehead deepening. “I deserve to know,” he pointed out, “friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Even then, something about his phrasing had ticked me off, but I hadn’t been able to put my finger on just what it was. I had never pressed him for details about his home life, his family, or really anything, if I was being honest. When I asked, I took what he gave me, never requesting more when he paused, or glossed over something. He had never afforded me the same kindness, though. Every detail that was mine was his, because friends weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. I had considered it a good thing at the time - he was bringing me out of my shell, ensuring I had someone to confide in, but now, I wasn’t as sure of how pure his intentions had been. Had he had the same conversations with June? I was doubtful.

In contrast, here was Arin, offering me an out. There was no way I could take it, though. He hadn’t took the out I had offered him, and I would be a complete hypocrite if I didn’t open up to him, as I hoped he might one day open up to me. That didn’t mean I had to spill everything right off the bat, though. I’d start small, just to test out the waters.

“It’s only fair,” I pointed out, giving him a small, close-lipped smile, “and it’s really not that big of a deal. There’s just this in-person lab component to one of my classes, which the professor has been super helpful about trying to find a way around. She suggested that maybe I could get the work I had done during my internship to count for the lab credit, but the issue is -” I paused, sighing, not having even really dealt with the issue yet, but already tired of dealing with it “- the professor I used to work under and I had a falling out back at the end of the spring, and she’s still really not happy with me because of it, so she told the professor of the class that I’m taking that I could count the work I did for my internship for credit, but she’d have to have my name redacted in all of the publications that I’m mentioned in.”

God, I sounded so whiny. There were so many people - even here, in Angeles, at the palace - that had been through so much more taxing situations, and overcame them with grace. I shook my head, disappointed in myself, now that I had voiced my thoughts aloud. “I really shouldn’t complain. It could be so much worse. It’s just that that includes the experiment that I came up with, which would essentially mean that I get no credit for my own idea, which kind of sucks.”

“You can't get the credit and keep your name on the papers?” His brows were furrowed, his eyes narrowed at me as we continued making out way down the steps.

Trust me, I feel as confused as you look. “Apparently not,” I replied, frowning and looking down briefly as I shook my head. “I’ve never heard of that happening to anybody before, but her email claims it’s department policy.”

“Well, did you check with someone higher than her?” He led me to the passenger side of the car before letting go of my hand, opening and holding the door for me.

I might have been surprised if I wasn’t so annoyed over my own situation. I shook my head, offering him a small smile as I slid into the car, as if that would make up for him having to listen to me complain about an issue that really, probably meant nothing to him. “She’s one of the heads of the department, the other head being my father, and we try to avoid dragging each other into things like this, in order to minimize the amount of times the word, ‘nepotism,’ is thrown around.”

“Can you go higher than them both? Not use your father at all?” He asked before closing the door and walking around to the diver’s side of the car. At the same time he got in, his guard got in the back seat, the two of them shutting their doors in somewhat eerie synchronization.

I furrowed my brows at the suggestion, turning it over in my mind as we buckled our seatbelts. Who even was higher than the head of the department? “I hadn’t considered that. I’m not sure who would be higher than them, to be honest.”

“What about the dean?” he suggested, starting the car.

Oh. Duh. I frowned. Even the dean couldn’t tell the heads of each department what they were allowed to do with their publications outside of the university itself, if I understood the universarial political structure correctly, but Arin might be on to something. “I think the dean might be able to clarify the policy, so if it is something that the professor I worked under made up on the spot, that could work.” Looking over at him then, I added, “Logically, though, I know that either way, it’s not the end of the world. It’s just frustrating, I guess.”

He was silent for a moment, staring ahead at the bushes that lined the parking lot, before offering up his two cents on the matter. “It’s up to you, but wouldn’t you feel better if you didn’t have to worry about it, though? And you could move on?”

I paused, looking down at my hands as I processed what he had just said. Was he trying to see the problem from my perspective - something he had been so adverse to doing when we had talked about understanding other cultures as a method of improving international relations during our first date? That was a big step in the right direction. Plus, he did have a point. I guess he can read me a lot easier than I can read him.

“Yes. I’ll see about emailing the dean tomorrow morning,” I answered finally, turning back to look at him then. “Thank you.”

“No thanks needed,” he replied with a shrug, looking at me once more. “So, what are you in the mood for?”

I frowned. Hadn’t we just been over this, inside? Either, he wanted to know if I had somehow remembered the name of a specific seafood restaurant, or he had a really terrible memory. “Well, what’s good around here? You’d know better than me!”

“Well, what do you feel like having. I can base my choice off that.” He raised his eyebrows at me expectantly. So, he had a pisspoor memory, then. Noted.

“Well,” I began, raising an eyebrow at him, pausing for a moment to give him a chance to remember that we had already had this conversation. I smiled at him as well, but he didn’t seem to even understand that I found this mildly amusing. “I mentioned seafood earlier.”

He nodded, taking the car out of park and looking out the back as he began to pull out of the spot. “Seafood it is then.”

“Perfect.” I gave him a nod and a smile, before turning back to the window. If his memory really was that bad, I couldn’t blame him for taking a long time to remember the names of any of the Selected girls. Still, if he knew he had a poor memory, he should have known that he’d have to devote a little extra time to memorizing our names, to begin with. Then again, with his schedule, extra time was likely a luxury he did not have.

It wasn’t worth losing more sleep over. I turned back to Arin, a new topic of conversation already in mind. “Do you get to come into the city often?”

He waited until he had pulled the car onto the road to answer. “Not too much. I've been a few times, recently, but not as much as I'd like.”

I nodded. Once again, that made a good deal of sense, with what his workload appeared to be. “It seems nice. A lot bigger than I’m used to, though, for sure!” Knoxville truly wasn’t even comparable to Angeles. The two places were as different as night and day, though each had their own unique charms, from what I had seen.

“Is that good or bad?” He asked, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

I gazed off into the distance at the buildings rising up before us, and then to the shoreline beyond, so distant it was hardly even visible. Angeles felt like a never ending sprawl of buildings to me. Someone could so easily get lost, mixed in with the crowd, anonymous to anyone except those who were looking. Yet, it was also a city where many big names had been able to make connections and rise to fame. There was a little something for everybody.

“Good,” I decided, “I think.”

He barked out a laugh at that, the sound almost making me jump. “You should write the travel brochures. ‘Visit Angeles- Good, I think.’”

“To be fair, I’ve only been two places in this city,” I pointed out, even as I laughed along. “‘Highlights include - roller skating and ballet.’”

“Let me guess, your tag line for the roller rink is ‘It’s a great place to fall on your ass.’?” He cut me a glance for all of a second, still leaving me tempted to remind him to keep his eyes on the road.

Still, I had to laugh at that. Although, no travel brochure I had ever seen would be so crass. “How about, ‘great place to settle disputes - in various languages!’”

“Well, there you go. You’ve got a promising career!”

“Good to know I’ve got a backup plan,” I retorted, rolling my eyes. Lord only knows I’ll probably need one, if this doesn’t work out.

“I wish I had one of those,” he admitted with a wry laugh. “This’ll either pan out or it’ll be like 18th century France.”

My laugh came more from a place of surprise than anything else. He must be nervous about how capable of a king he was going to be. This was likely the closest I was ever going to get to him admitting something about himself, at least, until we got to know each other better. It was a roundabout method of learning more about him, sure, but it’d have to do for now.

So, I was going to laugh away his admission with a joke. “Never too late to run away, I suppose. Though you’d need to plan it out well. You might need a lookout.”

He only sighed at that. “Even if I got out my sister would track me down. She’d never let me get away with it.”

I hummed thoughtfully, nodding. Presumably, he was referring to Safiya, whose medical career would undoubtedly be ruined before it even started if she was forced to become the heir or the queen. I could only imagine what lengths she would be willing to go to to prevent that from happening. “She is certainly capable of doing that.”

I narrowed my eyes, side-eyeing him as I attempted to come up with another approach. “What if it was like eighteenth century France, but instead of you actually dying, you just faked your death, and then ran away?”

“I'm pretty sure the Bourbons tried that- it didn't work out well,” he states, “and Guillotines only stopped being used less than one hundred and fifty years ago so I'm not sure I like my chances.”

Ah, of course, the Bourbons. How could I have forgotten about them, after the conversation Arin and I had had over two glasses of the alcohol that shared their name. “Fair,” I relented, laughing lightly as I looked at him. “I guess you’ll just have to ensure that nobody start rioting in the streets about bread, then.”

“Or I can just cut back on the cake,” he joked, chuckling. “Which, for the record - I know she never said that.”

Damn, I had been so ready to point that out. Nonetheless, I grinned, shaking my head a little in mock disappointment. “One if history’s biggest myths - right up there with Napoleon being short. Why do all of the fun tall tales come from France?”

“It’s probably because of all the wine they drink,” he stated with a pointed look in my direction.

Did I have a reputation as a wine connoisseur? I chuckled, knowing that if anyone thought that, they couldn’t be further from the truth. “Good thing there are better alcoholic beverages out there, then.”

He inhaled sharply. “Don’t let my mom hear you say that.”

I debated informing him that I had gotten along with his mother just fine when I had bumped into her in the kitchen a few nights ago, but I decided against it. Somehow, I didn’t imagine he’d be too fond of the idea of Jen and I accidentally having a brief wine night with his mother. “My lips are sealed,” I promised, chuckling lightly as I leaned back in my seat, “and it’s not like I dislike wine. I just like other things more.”

“Oh? Like what exactly?” Thankfully, he kept his eyes on the road. Good, I’d like to make it to dinner in one piece, please and thank you.

“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” I admitted with a laugh.

He glanced over at me for just a second. “Hit me with it.”

Smirking a little, I met his gaze out of the corner of my eyes. No matter who I told this to, they always seemed so surprised, as if I was the last person they expected to be able to handle shots. “My drink of choice has always been tequila, no chaser.”

Arin was no different. He turned to face me fully then, tearing his now wide eyes off the road. “Seriously?”

I tossed my head back laughing as I took in the expression on his face. I really couldn’t fathom why this news was so shocking to so many of the people here. Even Clemence had seemed rather surprised that I preferred tequila to wine, when we had last talked in her room. Considering the context of where I was coming from, though, my drink of choice made sense. At least, I thought it did. “Well, I am a college student, in a big school, in a part of the country notorious for very active fraternities and tailgates.”

“Should I be worried about Wylan’s party?” He asked with a slightly nervous laugh.

Getting my earlier fit of laughter under control, I turned back to him, smiling and shaking my head. “I can handle myself, don’t worry.” Though, Wylan’s party did raise a whole new slough of questions. Was he going to seek me out there - even with other girls present? That seemed unlikely, but it was a nice thought. More importantly, did his question mean that there would be shots of tequila available at Wylan’s party? If that was the case, things could get very interesting, even without me there.

We pulled into a parking lot that was about half full then. It wasn’t difficult for Arin to find a spot. After putting the car in park, he hopped out, coming around to my side to open the door for me. “Thank you,” I said, looping my arm through the one he offered, letting him lead me towards the restaurant. A part of me still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this new Arin, who actually minded his manners, and opened the door for me, but I certainly wasn’t about to complain or question it. He held the door for me again when we reached the entrance of the restaurant, letting me walk through as I smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of the gesture. Now, this is what I had been expecting when I had signed up for the Selection, and in the fantasies I had dreamed up as a child.

I didn’t linger on the realization long, as happy as it was. Instead, I took in my surroundings yet again, trying to get a feel for what I was in for. I turned around as Arin followed me in, offering him a smile as I asked, “I’m assuming you’ve been here before?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I have. Don’t worry.” With that, he turned to the maitre d’, stating, “We’d like a table for two, please, and then a table for one.”

As the maitre d’ searched through his podium for something, I glanced at Arin sideways. “Why would I worry?” Did he think my nerves came from dealing with the unfamiliar? This is why you need to open up to him.

Maybe I would.

Later.

He shrugged. “Some people needlessly worry.”

My name was definitely implied in there, somewhere.

I laughed a bit, the sound tinny to my ears. “What would there even be to worry about, in this case?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe it was just a bad turn of phrase.”

I frowned, still looking at him out of the corner of my eye, right as the maitre d’ reappeared, ushering us towards out table. Upon getting there, Arin pulled out my chair, waiting until I was seated to walk around the table to his own chair. To my left, a large glass window gave us a perfect view of the beach, the ocean waves gently lapping against the shore as the sun set in the distance, basking the world in a golden glow.

With a little sigh, I turned back to the table, folding my napkin in my lap and opening my menu. Arin was already two steps ahead of me, his eyes scanning the menu with careful consideration. Seafood had been a staple in my house, but nothing nearly as fancy as what I saw on this menu. Maybe I should’ve been more specific in my description of “seafood.”

“Is there anything in particular you recommend?”

He glance up at me, setting his menu down on the table. “What do you usually like?”

“Salmon is usually my go-to.” My father cooked it almost every sunday for dinner, at home. It was the only thing my mother would allow him to cook in our kitchen, since, according to her, it was the only dish he could cook better than her. Plus, she got a break from cooking, as an added bonus, though she’d never admit that she saw it as such.

“Do you like pasta?” He tilted his head to the side, keeping his eyes on me, but not quite staring. Not yet, at least.

“I’ve only had it a few times,” I answered, “but I remember liking it well enough.”

“A few times?” He frowned. “Pasta? That’s what we’re talking about, right?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, laughing a little nervously. “My parents weren’t big pasta chefs, I’m afraid, and we rarely ate out, because getting five young kids to sit still at a dinner table was no easy task for them.”

He nodded slowly, though all it took was one look for me to know that the fact that pasta wasn’t a staple in my household baffled him. “Well, then I recommend the salmon ravioli.”

I tilted my head to the side, having never have heard those two particular foods being combined before. “That sounds good,” I offered, along with a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, along with my apparent pasta ineptitude.”

“You're right, it does. I think I'll have that too.” With that, he closed his menu, setting it on the edge of the table. “Anything to drink?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are we about to test my wine tolerance?”

“We can if you want.”

“As long as it's not a red,” I replied with an amused laugh. Maybe I should make it my goal to drink wine with all of the Schreaves before this all was over. Out of the ones currently in the palace, the only one I was missing was Safiya. The idea was intriguing.

He let out a low chuckle, and then replied, “You can get whatever drink you like.”

“Sauvignon Blanc, then,” I decided after quickly scanning the list of white wines.

He nodded. “Sure, if you'd like. I think I'll have something else though.”

Had he thought I was deciding for the both of us? My eyes went wide, and I shook my head quickly. “No, of course.”

I turned to my left, watching the sunset out the window. Change the subject. Change the subject, Change the subject.

“Random question,” I began, turning back to face him once again, “but what led you to find the book you recommended me?”

“Oh, it was just something I read some years back. I think it’s important to have an understanding of what made Illéa the way it is and to have multiple opinions on controversial subjects,” he answered nonchalantly.

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek as I mulled his answer over. “It’s an interesting read, for sure, and has definitely answered a lot of the questions I had. I think it’s just left me a tad frustrated, though.” I shook my head before continuing. “I mean, I know this was a time that my grandparents were alive, but my parents always instructed my siblings and I never to talk about it, but now, especially, I would love to hear what they have to say about it.”

“They may not have wanted to share with you for their own reasons. The war isn't remembered fondly.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“No, I know, and my grandfather was a naval engineer, so…” I trailed off, looking back down at my hands, in my lap, not sure of where I had even been going with that sentence.

Luckily for me, the waiter came back over at that moment, asking us if we were ready to order. After placing our orders, the rest of the night went smoothly. Once the food came, Arin was too distracted to chat, and by the time we had gotten in the car on the way home, it was a struggle for me just to stay awake. I practically collapsed into my bed when we finally got back to the palace, pausing only to change into pajamas and take off my makeup.

I slept soundly, for the first time in a long while.

#selectionoc

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