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knightley--phillip · 2 years ago

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coming out of my cage || the golden brio

in which Phillip has something important to tell John and Tom

backdated to sept. 23 -- aka bisexual visibility day :3

cw: internalized homophobia, these boys working through their cultish upbringing, you know how it be

@prince--thomas @captain--john

PHILLIP: Phillip had maybe accidentally on purpose come out to the whole town on Twitter.

After the initial wave of adrenaline wore off, Phillip sat on the couch and let the sheer terror sink over him.

Fuck. What had he done?

Never mind the people on Twitter congratulating him. Never mind the kind words from friends and acquaintances and hell, even strangers. Phillip knew he messed up. He shouldn’t have done it like this. He shouldn’t have done it like this, because Tom and John should’ve been the first to know.

But maybe that’s the reason he did it like this. Because he was so terrified of what Tom and John would say, so terrified that they would kick him out of the house, so terrified that even though they’d all turned their backs upon their families, there was still some trace of their fathers in them.

Might as well do it in style, ey?

Phillip was restless. Tom and John would not be home for another hour or so. Phillip decided that the best way to break this news would be over a meal. They’d both be hungry, yeah? It was dinner time. And instead of ordering a pizza, Phillip set to work. And by set to work, he boiled some water and put some pasta in it and when he looked at the can of sauce, he didn’t really know what to do with it so he dumped it into a tupperware and put it in the microwave till it sizzzled and bubbled and left quite a mess. But it was warm and that was all that mattered and he thought maybe he’d fry a few strips of bacon to go with it.

By the time Tom and John had come home, the smoke alarm had gone off.

“It’s fine!” Phillip yelped from the kitchen. “The thing’s just sensitive — hang on, sit down, I made a proper dinner.” He stuck his head out of the little window that opened from the kitchen and gestured to the round table, which he had already set out with plates and forks and glasses.

THOMAS: Thomas was completely unawares of any angst that Phil was having. He didn’t get on Twitter much, especially after the whole debacle with Annie. While he had post alerts for both John and Phil, he wasn’t actually logged in on his phone after everything that had happened. There was a peacefulness to being online that Tom was enjoying. The last thing he needed was people commenting on his life. He knew it was a disaster, thank you.

The day was ordinary. He went to work, he got home, stopping at the Qins to pick up Levi and thank Ting-Ting for having watched him. Tom was chatting with her on the porch, when he heard the fire alarm at his house going off.

“Should probably go see what that’s about,” Tom sighed, saying his goodbyes to Ting-Ting.

As he crossed back over the yard, John pulled up and hopped out. They raised their eyebrows at each other, but didn’t say anything.

“What the bloody hell?” Tom asked, going over to a window and opening it a crack. There wasn’t too much smoke, more just the heat of the oven, but Christ. He went over to the fire alarm, shrugging out of his jacket and waving it underneath it, baby in the other hand, who had started to cry at the piercing noise.

After a moment, it stopped and Tom huffed a breath, bouncing Levi on his hip before going to put him in his high chair.

“Who said you were allowed to cook, eh?” Tom glanced at John with a tired half-smile.

JOHN: John found twitter to be full of people not worth his time and gossip which only lead to more drama he didn’t need. After all, people like Annie flocked to twitter and instagram and whatever for their news and thoughts and to be brainwashed. Why did he need a twitter? One of the lads had made one for him way back but he never really scrolled or got to retweeting or whatever. Pretty sure he deleted the app off his phone.

The blonde had just walked up the drive when the alarm went off and his instinct took over immediately. Phillip had fucked the coffee maker again or left the oven on or put plastic on the stove top while it was still hot. His muscles all seized and he was about to spring towards the door, laptop bag flung behind him, eyebrows up as he glanced at Tom and hastened his way up to the house, about to have a shout at Phillip when he walked into just a mildly hot kitchen with nothing actively on fire.

He immediately deflated, “An edible proper dinner?” His one eyebrow raised. “Where did you order it from? Did it come with heating instructions?” He looked confused at this whole situation and looked towards the table, an immediate thought popping into his head, “What did ya do, lad? Please tell me we don’t have another puppy situation.”

PHILLIP: Well, this could be going better.

It also could be going a lot worse, Phillip reminded himself.

He stood behind the table, placing his hands on the back of one of the chairs. Of course John would think he got someone knocked up. Which, okay, given the house’s track record seemed plausible. (Or John could’ve actually been referring to Gilly — in which case, c’mon, she was spayed now!)

“Oh, no, nothing like that, don’t worry,” Phillip said quickly. “It’s, uh… it’s actually good news.”

Was it? Phillip certainly thought so. Except, maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was terrified by all of this. Maybe he was stalling. Maybe he’d get everyone to sit down and eat dinner and then when they were clearing the plates he would make up a lie about what this whole thing was — he got a poem published! He no longer had chlamydia! He was getting a promotion to head barista!

Maybe he should do that. It might be easier.

But he looked at John and Tom and little squirming Levi and —

Well, he wanted them to know. He didn’t want to hide.

“I do have something I want to tell you,” said Phillip. And he swallowed the bitter taste in the back of his mouth and kept his gaze on them. “And — this is very hard for me and I wanted to do it right, because you mean a lot to me. I… I’m bisexual.” He looked away now. “Meaning, I like men. And women. I still like women too, don’t get me wrong. I just — I understand if you two need some time to process that, but… I can’t hide this part of me any longer. And I wanted you two to know.”

And then he spread his arms out, waving his hands.

“Uh. Well, that’s it! Let’s dig in!”

THOMAS: Tom was glad he wasn’t holding the bairn, because he was damn near sure he would’ve dropped him at Phil’s announcement.

For a moment, he just stared at him like he’d grown another head. Or shed his skin. That was what it felt like. Like suddenly Tom was looking at an entirely different person. He felt like his entire life was being rewritten, again. Maybe that was dramatic, but Tom didn’t know how else to feel. No one, in his entire life, had ever come out to him. He’d known queer people, obviously. And he didn’t have a problem with them (except that gay men made him slightly uncomfortable, and lesbians were just a bit confusing…and that was as far as his understanding of the whole thing went.) His boss was a lesbian! She was very nice.

But Phil was his childhood friend. They’d known each other their whole lives. From the cradle. They’d never had secrets from one another. Phil and John were always the first ones to know about everything in Tom’s life, and the same had always been true for them too. Or, at least, Tom had thought it was.

Phil was telling them now, though, that--this had always been the case? This--bisexual thing? Or…had it just happened?

Tom didn’t know what to say, but he did know what to do. Whenever Tom was worried or didn’t know what to do in a social situation, he always looked to John. Followed him. Copied him. Ever since they’d all been young.

That was what he did now, after fiddling with buckling Levi into his highchair. He looked at John, waiting for him to say something. To do something. To tell Tom what to say and do too.

JOHN: At the ‘don’t worry’ John relaxed a bit. Last thing they needed was another puppy or child or responsibility. But really, what had Phillip done? Stolen something? Small compared to the things they’d carried out in the name of the Order.

Bisexual.

The word rang through his head and he blinked. He felt the gaze of Thomas fall on him, as if he were to set the tone of this whole thing. As if his opinion was the start of everything. And well–he really didn’t know what to think. Of course he was still Phillip, but now he was Phillip who kissed and shagged men as much as he did women.

As the cogs whirred in his brain and the pieces all rearranged themselves, flipping back and forth through memories and facts he knew about his best mate. Oddly, it sort of clicked and made sense.

“Huh. Don’t know why we didn’t see it before. I mean, you do enjoy a fair bit of pegging which is always a little bit of a knock to heterosexuality.” He crossed his arms, sizing up his mate, “Yeah. I can see it. Can’t you, Tom? Anyways, you shouldn’t hide things from your mates. You know we accept you and love you, even if you do shag men.”

He had nothing against the gays, wasn’t his style or preference, but that wasn’t to say it was a wrong preference to have.

“I’m more concerned with what you’ve done to this dinner, actually. I might not be as accepting of it if you’ve ruined another appliance.”

PHILLIP: There was a long pause and for a moment, Phillip feared the worst.

Because they could yell at him. Or worse — they could icily regard him and tell him to be out of the house by dawn. That’s how the conversation would’ve gone had he told his parents, probably. Well, his father at least. And certainly John’s father.

His heart hammered. He felt dizzy, like his knees might buckle at any moment, but he held back the urge to blurt out that it was all a joke, that he was just messing with them, because he knew as painful as these next few moments would be, the alternative would sting far, far more.

And then John made a joke. Or, at least as close as a joke as John Smith could possibly make. Phillip blinked. He let out a breath. His shoulders shook a little.

“I —” He thought about everything he could say, but when he opened his mouth nothing came out. He blinked and there were tears. He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head and trying to hide any crying.

“I promise it’s not that bad — it’s edible,” he managed to choke out. He sucked in a breath, blinking and composing himself. “And if it isn’t, I’ll order a pizza. On me.”

THOMAS: Phil was near crying and John was making uncomfortable sex jokes--a desperate cry for help, if you asked Tom. And Tom just stood there. Quiet. Unable to think of anything at all to say. Which was probably for the best, because if he did, he’d fuck it up. Tom wasn’t good at emotions. At conversations where you shared your feelings and tried to talk things through.

Not to mention…he still had no idea how he felt about all of this. He was reeling a bit. His entire world view shifted, once again. After the third or fourth time, you’d think you’d get used to something like that but didn’t really seem to work out that way. It should be fine. It would be fine but Tom had a lot of questions that he didn’t think he wanted to know the answers to.

How long had he felt this way? How many times had they cracked jokes and made him uncomfortable? He wasn’t dating a bloke, was he? Why hadn’t he told them earlier?

These questions just sat in his chest.

So, he just pressed his lips into a little nod when John nudged him.

Levi cooed and Tom looked down at his son, giving him a little bit more of a genuine smile, running his hand over the baby’s head. His brow furrowed a bit in thought. What would happen when Levi grew up? Would he like blokes? Tom’d admit he’d be a bit disappointed. Potentially have no idea what to say to him about it. But…at least he’d have his Uncle Phil. And Tom would still love him.

Tom still loved Phil too. ‘Course he did. He just--needed to get used to it probably. Like if Phil had shaved his head.

“It better be,” he finally said, clearing his throat slightly and finally looking at Phil properly for the first time since he’d blurted out his news. “I’m starving.”

#coming out of my cage #the golden brio #johnlip #tomlip #john #tom #big steps for philly

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knightley--phillip · 3 years ago

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Thank you // For what? // For always taking care of me. // I’d do it again, on any planet

A Golden Brio Parallels Post that is Equal Parts Heartfelt and Shitposty

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Tom Stoppard // Dead Poets Society (1989) // “I Will” - Mitski // Dumb and Dumber (1994) // Euripides, trans Anne Carson // Ocean’s Eleven (2001) // “How Can I Tell Him” - Jens Lekman // The Fall, Alan Stevens Foster // “Chillin’ in a Hot Tub” - Anthony Padilla // Garfield’s Judgement Day, Jim Davis and Kim Campbell

@prince--thomas && @captain--john

#the golden brio #:)#words words words #swyntask #shout out to laura for inspiring this Parallels format

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prince--thomas · 3 years ago

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All for One ~~ [The Golden Brio]

In which Tom shares his news with his best mates...[takes place: early October]

@captain--john, @knightley--phillip

[tw -- brief talk of abortion, general angst/depression/etc.]

THOMAS: When Annie had left, Tom had stayed sitting at the kitchen table for what felt like hours. It wasn’t actually that long. The dogs eventually got restless, having missed their midafternoon walk. Tom got up when Fly started pawing at his pant leg. Robotically, he’d moved toward the front door, hooked them both up on their leashes and took them into the grey day.

Outside looked the same as it always had. Part of Tom expected this stupid, bullshit magical town to look different for some reason. But no, the rest of the world turned on as it always had. Tom was the only one who was different. He felt lost, even though he’d walked these Swynlake roads so often that they no longer twisted and turned on him. His mind was moving sluggishly as it tried to unstick all the facts from his anxious, disbelieving mind.

Annie was pregnant. It was his. She was keeping it. He was going to be a father.

With every step, he repeated these facts until they felt more solid. Unavoidable.

And then, he started to plan. His job at the fire department didn’t pay extremely well, maybe he’d have to change jobs. Or pick up more shifts. Or get a second job. His mother had sent him a fair bit of his inheritance, but he knew it was all that he would ever see of it. Enough for maybe college? Fuck. He needed to tell John and Phil. This was not just because they were his mates, but because it could become complicated. If it was a boy (he prayed it wasn’t a boy), then the Order would try to come for him, as they had agreed to. Thank God he hadn’t sworn it in blood, the way he’d sworn not to pick up a sword again. John and Phil needed to be told this was coming.

If that was not the case, Tom didn’t think he would tell them right away. He wasn’t eager to share his stupid fucking mistake with them. He was ashamed. He was guilty. He felt like an idiot.

He wanted to call his Ma, but he couldn’t do that. She’d tell the rest of the Order. That didn’t stop him from missing her, from wanting her advice. Instead, he just had John and Phil. Who had just as much of a clue as him about all of this.

Eventually, he took the dogs back home after walking them for an hour or so. Phil and John were home soon, he was sure. Until then—

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he had been doing before the front door turned and Phil and John sauntered in together, done with their classes for the day. Tom was sitting at the dining table on his laptop, which he closed when he saw them, his lips pressed together, his palms sweating.

“Oi,” he said, catching them before they could walk into the rest of the house. He wiped his hands on his trousers and leaned back in his chair. “I, uh—well, I’ve something to tell you both. It’s...not good.” His gaze flicked to John first, then Phil, before dropping to the table.

PHILLIP: “Well, you sure know how to welcome two blokes home,” said Phillip, sticking out his tongue. All in all, he wasn’t super concerned about this whole interaction — after all, the last time Tommy had pulled them in for something like this, his dog had gotten knocked up and that had been more funny than anything actually concerning. Also, they’d literally just undergone the worst thing that any of them had imagined growing up (getting totally cut off from their family and disowned and disavowed and thrown out like trash), so really, anything else that followed was

Phillip took a detour to the kitchen, grabbing a can of Red Bull, and then plopped himself in the seat in front of Tommy.

“So… what’s up? Girl troubles? Dog troubles? Both?”

JOHN: Through all of this mess, showdown, blood pacts, and oh fucks what do we do, John had coped. He had his budgeting spreadsheets out. They were itemized and down to the cent for everything. He had margins for wiggle room but there wasn’t much. They all had to get jobs, which he’d already started at the Deer as a bartender as well as his TA stipend and Tom had always had his firefighting, and Phillip was doing what he did best. Sell himself in whatever he felt fit to do. He didn’t really worry about ole Phil.

What he did worry about was Tom’s current state waiting for them as he and Phillip walked through those doors. The bloke had been withdrawn and guilty the last couple weeks. Skulking around and just being well, not quite Tom-like. Phillip bounced back despite all the shit he covered up with that plaster of a smile, Tom wasn’t as easily patched.

It worried him. And it worried him even more now in that ominous sort of tone of his. Numbers, figures and facts comforted John Smith, emotions did not.

“You never admitted the puppy situation was a horrible, god awful idea so please tell me what I must brace myself for, Thomas.” He crossed his arms, mouth already in a frown and his gaze scrutinizing, looking over his friend as he sat himself down next to Phillip.

THOMAS: Tom ignored Phil’s quips.

They bounced right off of him. He was too wound tight to let them affect him. It was a good thing too, considering that Phil had come dangerously close to the mark and the thought made him sick.

It was John’s gaze that made him want to squirm. He did, just a bit. Leaning back so that his chair was on two legs, then plopping back down again, his knee starting to bounce underneath the dining room table.

How was he supposed to tell them? How was he supposed to disappoint them? Again. He had disappointed them by being the one to throw down his sword first. No matter what they said, he felt there would always be guilt in his heart for that. It had been the right thing to do, but he had ruined both of their lives.

And now--this.

Tom, always the most emotional. Always the stupidest of the three. For years, it had been John and Phil that protected him from his own stupidity. By the reputation alone, Tom had felt invincible with his name next to his friends but now--

Tom dropped his head into his hands, his elbows on his knees. His forehead nearly knocked into the dining room table. His fingers tugged at his curls.

“Annie Tremaine came by today. She’s--well, we slept together a few weeks ago. Right after...everything. I dunno. I was drunk and not thinking straight.” Tom wouldn’t usually feel the need to explain a one night stand to them, but--context was important.

“She told me she’s pregnant,” Tom told the floor. “And that it’s mine.” His voice twisted on the last word, like it was glass in his throat.

PHILLIP: “What —” Phillip coughed, choking on his sip of Red Bull. He had to thump his chest a bit as he hacked up his lungs, eventually swallowing the sugary sweet taste of the drink mixed with his saliva. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he gave one final cough and flicked his eyes to Tom. “And you’re getting rid of it — right?”

There was no other fucking solution — the Order would swoop in and claim Tom’s kid if it was a boy and Phillip did not want to deal with that. Besides, Annie Tremaine had like five other kids or something and she’d really be doing the world a favor if she just took care of this speedily.

Then he paused.

“Wait a second — how do you even know the thing’s yours?” He gestured with his can of Red Bull to make a point.

JOHN: John’s eyes narrowed at the mention of another girl. Women just seemed to cause trouble in their lives, and most importantly, it was women in Thomas’ lives that endangered them every time John could clean up a mess.

Rose, Marie, Arista, now Annie, some sort of carousel of women that Thomas just rotating and riding and causing each of the poles they were located to skewer John repeatedly in his pockets as well as his sanity in this infinite circle of madness.

As the news came in, he felt his blood boil and his jaw clench. They didn’t have room for this in their budget. How in the bloody--

Phillip was speaking now and John felt himself relax slightly. Dear, dear, Phillip, John could certainly kiss him at this very moment but that would be very disturbing and quite wrong. Those were the options. Get rid of it, or at least get a paternity test on the thing. Who knew who this Annie Tremaine was or if she would have some sort of fling with Thomas, why couldn’t she have a fling with others.

“Phillip is right. You need to make sure.” He said it offhandedly, already getting up from the couch and heading straight for his bag that held his laptop and schoolwork. He sat himself down on the kitchen table and opened his laptop and opened his color coordinated, macro filled, tabulated spreadsheet and opened a new tab. Baby Budget

He then began typing furiously into it, sighing out deeply every now and then a “Fuckin’ hell.”

John didn’t look up, he was too busy trying to figure out the damages, his search engines already browsing for average baby budgets. He didn’t look up as he spoke, “Thomas, you know I do love you as I do Phillip. But if I get a bloody ulcer this year... ”

THOMAS: As far as reactions went, this was better than expected, though also exactly what was expected.

Phil and John were more level-headed than he was. He hadn’t even thought about whether or not the baby was his. Anastasia had said it was...why would he question that? Then again, until recently, he had a Wikipedia page and a net worth of a few million quid. There was every reason for her to lie. He felt embarrassed, not having realized this, and also confused because...well, he’d sat with the news for a few hours now and he had gotten--

Okay with it was a strong statement, but he had accepted it. Mostly. Now, it felt as if another wrench had been thrown at him. Right at his shins. Intent on making him fall to his knees. Instead, he just hung his head, like a child being scolded. That was what he felt like. Stupid. Like a child. Not ready for a child. And like a burden to his friends.

That was the most prominent feeling. It was Tom who had not been able to carry out their orders. Tom who had thrown down his sword and let them be captured by the enemy. Tom, who, with his stupid mistakes, was putting them all in danger oncee again.

He swallowed roughly and shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry,” he rasped out, trying his best not to cry, but he was bloody exhausted. And it felt like he had nothing left to do but cry. Which wasn’t manly or brave. Phil and John wouldn’t respect him for it. It would only make all of this worse. So, he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath until he knew his voice would be stronger.

Then, he looked up. “I dunnae kin if it’s mine, but that’s what she told me. That she hasn’t been with anyone else. And that she’s keeping it.” He said most of this to Phil, then glanced at John. “It’s--it’s not your responsibility to budget for. I-I make okay money at the fire station. I’ll get a second job. This isn’t--I’ll handle this. If it is…” my kid. “I’ll handle it.”

PHILLIP: Phillip felt like someone’d just punched him right in the gut. He regretted what he’d said. He knew he could be callous when it came to these things, if only ‘cuz he couldn’t understand why the hell anyone would want to keep an unwanted pregnancy. But this wasn’t Phillip and his millions of lays and girls whose names he did not remember — this was soft-hearted Tommy, and of course, Tommy would be totally okay with this bird keeping his kid, and of course, Tommy would want to handle it.

His gaze softened.

“I know you will, Tommy,” he said, slowly. “And you’ll be a great father. I know it. But the point is, you don’t have to handle this alone. We’re here for you, okay? No matter what, till the end. We’ve always got your back. I’m not bad with kids, you know? S’long as they’re not mine.” He chuckled, leaning a bit back in his seat, but the smile faded from his face slightly. “You don’t — if you don’t want us to help, that’s fine. But we will. We always will.” And here, he cast a glance at John. “Right, J?”

JOHN: John was quiet, his brain was working a mile a minute, he’d been listening but it wasn’t until Phillip said his name that he looked up from the document, suddenly pulled from his disaster preparation and failsafes and he truly looked at his mates. Phillip soft and Thomas on the verge of tears.

“Yes.

He slowly shut his laptop and pushed it forward, standing and walking over to his mates. His bristled panic response died down as he crossed the living room

“Thomas… that reaction was not to say that you’ve burdened us with something, that was me just, well-- it's the only way I know how to help.” He gave a bit of a begrudging smile as he clapped him on the shoulder, “You know I’m no good with caring for children or puppies or anything really that’s alive and has a mind of its own that’s not fully developed.” He exhaled a bit, “But what I can do is help you with what I’m good at. Financials. Responsibilities. And I will always help you, just as Philly said. Because you’re our family, you know. We’re all we have.”

THOMAS: We’re all we have.

John squeezed his shoulder and Tom had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek.

He wanted it to be enough. For Phil to be enough, for John to be enough, for the both of them to be enough. The problem was: they didn’t know shit about raising a baby. None of them did. Tom wanted his sisters. Wanted his mum. Yeah, he was a grown ass man and he had never wanted his mum as badly as he wanted her right now.

But his mum had turned her back on him. Texts, unanswered. Calls unanswered. She was ashamed of him. She probably hated him.

Who Tom had was Phil and John. Just as lost as him, though probably better off. He was bloody grateful for them though, because he knew that he couldn’t do this alone. There was no way that he would be able to do so. But maybe, with their help, he could--be a decent father. Maybe not a good one, but a decent one. With their help, he knew that he could keep his child safe. And that meant more to him than anything.

He nodded, swallowing roughly again. “Aye, thanks. Thank ye, both. I--don’t think I could do this without you.”

There were other things that he wanted to say. Reassure John he’d be a perfect uncle. Joke with Phil that he’d not let his baby alone with him. Tell them both he loved them. But these were things he had never been taught how to say. So, instead, he just sniffled a bit and squared his shoulders.

“I’m goin’ for a walk.” How were they to know he’d already walked the length of Swynlake this morning. “C’mon Gilly, Fly.” He turned and looked over his shoulder once more, giving them both a nod and a tight lipped smile and then disappeared out the door.

#swynjohn #swynphillip #tohn #tomlip #the golden brio #JUNIOR #all for one #brotp: we are all we have #it's honestly DISGRACEFUL #we don't have any official #brotp tags for them

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prince--thomas · 3 years ago

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The Brio’s Blood Oath

By willingly giving blood to seal this contract, John Francis Fitzwilliam Smith, Phillip Julian Brenton Harris Hubert Knightley, and Thomas Richard Edward Harrington III, hitherto referred to as “the promisors” vow to obey the stipulations set out below by Belle Rose Acheron, Hades Acheron, Toulouse Henri Bonfamille, Merida Elinor DunBroch, and their dependents: Opal Grace Acheron, Aidan Alexander Acheron, and Bellamy Henri Acheron, hitherto referred to as the “the promisees.”

I. The promisors shall not raise a weapon against the promisees, nor any sentient creature, being, or entity, with the intent to kill. They shall not be indirectly involved in the death of the promisees nor any sentient creature, being, or entity, through nefarious means such as, but not limited to: hiring someone to kill them, giving information that may cause another to harm them, etc.

II. Punishment for killing those outlined in stipulation “I” will result in the death of the promisor who committed the act. Deaths caused by reasonable accident including, but not limited to: vehicular death, medical death, or elsewise, will not result in the promisor’s death.

III. Additionally, the promisors shall not plot or scheme against the promisees, nor their other family--blood or otherwise--whether with the intention of retribution, punishment, or other malicious intent. They will not give information to others that might insist in causing harm to the promisees.

IV. Attempts to achieve the stipulations outlined in “III” will result in the promisors becoming incapacited until which point they stop attempting to speak against the promisees.

V. The promisors swear to follow further instructions laid out by the promisees within reason. This is limited, but not limited to, requests for intelligence on the promisees’ enemies, protection, and other requests that would uphold the spirit of this contract.

VI. This contract may only be broken by statements made willingly and without coercion by the majority of independent promisees to the promisors.

#blood oath #the golden brio #the golden brio stuff #having this separately for my own reference

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knightley--phillip · 3 years ago

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And you've got a smile That can light up this whole town I haven't seen it in a while Since she brought you down You say you're fine, I know you better than that Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

She wears high heels I wear sneakers She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find That what you're looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I'm the one Who understands you Been here all along So, why can't you see? You belong with me

#AHEM #make this song platonic about a friend watching another friend in a bad relationship and #its #phil LMASDljkdas #the golden brio #look

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knightley--phillip · 3 years ago

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...now what? || The Golden Brio

As it turned out, defying your family and the iron grip they had on you that went back generations and centuries was actually a lot easier than it seemed.

At least, that’s what Phillip told himself right now, as he and John and Thomas sat in a little pub in London, staring blankly at each other over a plate of fish and chips and a round of beers. All of them were silent. Phillip took a slow sip of his beer, before rubbing his temples.

As expected, neither John or Phillip’s father took the news well. As expected, they told Tom and Phil and John to never contact their families again. As expected, Phil and Tom and John were also totally cut off financially.

This was among other things. Those were the main points though. Phillip didn’t regret it. Phillip looked at his father, and he didn’t see the strong-shouldered formidable figure he feared his entire life. He saw a weak man, a coward. It was surprisingly easy to laugh in his face and walk out of the room with his head held high.

The fact that he might not ever see his mother again, though, was surprisingly hard to wrestle with. Phil was trying not to think about that right now.

He glanced up at Tom and John, both of them huddled together on the other side of the booth.

“So,” said Phillip, reaching for a chip and popping into his mouth. “... Now what?”

@captain--john @prince--thomas

#... now what?#the golden brio #tomlip #johnlip #tom #thomas #john

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prince--thomas · 3 years ago

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Sword Upon Our Hearts [Part One: Best Laid Plans] ~~ [The Golden Brio]

In which Tom, Phil, and John learn that Elinor is in town...[takes place: early July]

@captain--john, @knightley--phillip

[tw -- plotting murder, thoughts/talk of violence]

PHILLIP: Elinor Dunbroch was in town and for some reason, that struck Phillip as odd.

For the most part, the Order was quite clear about communicating who would be coming into Swynlake and for how long and if Phil and John and Tom even needed to concern themselves with the matter. They’d gotten a long report when Henry joined the team and when the Ainsworths had waltzed through town a few months ago, just on a quiet stop as they made their way down to the coast for a sea monster, there’d been an email just alerting them of the possible interactions.

But there had been no word on Elinor Dunbroch, which was odd considering the whole reason that John and Tom and Phil were in Swynlake was because of her daughter.

After a brief text to their group chat, it became clear to Phillip that no one else knew this information either.

“This is weird, right?” asked Phillip that night as they crowded around the dining table. John had a deep crease in his brow, which meant he was concerned, which made Phil feel a little validated for being as concerned as he was. “I’m not making this up, this is weird? God — do you think this is their way of telling us we gotta get our shit together? We’ve been sitting on our asses for… a while.”

Phillip felt guilty admitting that, because he’d grown very comfortable with his life as a grad student — throwing parties, living with his best mates, stirring up drama on Twitter. Some days, the mission was the furthest thing from his mind.

“I guess we should… get on that actually.”

JOHN: John was indeed concerned, which not only was evidenced by the crease on his brow but by the fact that he hadn’t attempted to make his two mates eat something healthy yet again. No, he went right to the cheesy sauced ready made macaroni that Phillip insisted on keeping in the cupboard and dumped it into a pot before shoving bowls in front of his mates. No time to cook when they had a situation on their hands.

He pushed around the macaroni left on his plate as Phillip continued just talking. Constant talking. And really nothing of substance, just things that they already knew. Elinor was here. Elinor, the woman who was his ‘almost mommy’ as Elizabeth so eloquently put it, was in town. And she was either here to send a message or here to get something done herself. Either way, it looked poorly on them that a woman was on their tails.

At Phillip telling him they were sitting on their asses, John gripped his fork a bit tighter. “We’ve not been sitting on our asses.” He snarked out and sighed sitting back in his chair, letting the fork clatter to his plate. “There’s a certain amount of reconnaissance necessary to accurately carry out this mission. I’ve been communicating with the higher ups regularly and not once have they threatened to intervene.” He grumbled to himself, crossing his arms, “Unless they’ve been trying to sweep this mission out from under us or they’ve been making us a diversion this whole bloody time and sending us out so they can take the credit, this just doesn’t fit. Why Elinor of all people? Why not one of the other Princes. To send Elinor would be a direct message of disappointment and would send an underhanded message of emasculation which I doubt is their tone with us..”

God if his father knew that Elinor of all people was sent for them? He’d never come back from that.

THOMAS: Aunt Elinor was in town. Yes, his aunt. And yes, it was very odd. She may only be an aunt by marriage, but she was as much a part of Tom’s family as anyone blood related to him. Even though Uncle Fergus and Tom’s mother, his sister Marigold, weren’t that close, he remembered perfectly Aunt Elinor coming to visit after his father had died. She stayed a long time, helping look after things while his mother rested. He had many fond memories sitting in the kitchen with her, or going out riding. (She was an excellent horsewoman.)

But, that just made this all the stranger, because Tom knew Aunt Elinor as the perfect Order woman. The pinnacle to which many strove. Although her husband was more or less considered a laughingstock, she was almost untouchable. Even her own daughter’s failings, which in the Order would be a reflection of poor mothering, had only been able to marginally tarnish her reputation.

So, no. It didn’t make sense why she would be here and not seek them out. The Order did not send their women, their mothers, their aunts, into dangerous situations.

Tom wondered if this was not—the Order’s plan.

He shook his head at John’s words. He’d been more or less content to let Phil and John go back and forth. In truth, he didn’t want to say much, especially as his theory started solidifying because he knew what it meant: Aunt Elinor was now the enemy. He knew he had to speak up. That it was his duty to put forward any ideas he might have, no matter how sour they sat in his gut.

“I don’t think it’s the Order. I think it’s Au—Elinor,” he said now, reluctantly. If only to soothe John’s pride. “I think she’s here for Merida.”

PHILLIP: Oh. Oh.

That changed everything. If Elinor was here for Merida, that meant that Elinor was now the enemy. That meant that she was probably telling Merida that they were here and thus, Merida and Lou Bonfamile and Belle and Hades Acheron would now know who the hell they were. Christ — and here the three of them were working on the play with Lou.

He clenched his jaw, rapping his knuckles onto the table.

“We’re gonna need to act sooner than later,” he said. He didn’t want to say that, but it was becoming obvious that they could not draw this situation out any longer. “The more we dawdle, the longer they’ll have to prepare. We’ve lost the element of surprise.”

He paused, his fingers curling into a fist.

“Fuck.”

JOHN: If there was one thing John disliked, it was people forcing his hand. This threw a complication into their plans of waiting things out for the opportune moment when their targets were most vulnerable. They didn’t have nearly enough information, which is probably why the Order hadn’t been forcing them to act yet.

But Elinor had fucked it, hadn’t she.

He gripped the fork in his hand again, this time, his knuckles growing white as he spoke through what he was thinking despite his frustration with the utter stupidity that was occuring, “We have to strike soon. But I refuse to do so recklessly. We’ll need one last bit of gathering information, pertinent information to the plan we devise. We have to specialize and focus our efforts on one area now that Elinor is possibly alerting Merida of at least the Order’s presence, if nothing else.”

They couldn’t let her blow their cover before they could act. They’d have to do so swiftly.

THOMAS: They didn’t argue with him, which meant that his theory made the most sense. Was the most plausible. And was also the worst possible outcome. Not only because Elinor had, most likely, blown their cover, but it meant she would be caught in the crossfire. Tom was already having to hunt his cousin. He didn’t want to add his aunt into the mix. Even if she wasn’t blood. He had known her since he was a small child.

Still, he knew his duty.

“The house,” he said, reluctantly. “It’s out of the way, without neighbors. We can take them through the forest to the castle, if necessary and…take care of everything there.”

Away from the children, he thought to himself. His stomach turned over and he found he was merely pushing his food around his plate. Not eating it. He needed to shake off this reluctance. He had a job to do. Swynlake was never supposed to be permanent. Even though he enjoyed his life here. He thought of the friends he had made—Kristoff and Elliot…Arista.

“If we take just one, the rest will come.” If there was one thing they learned, it was that the unit was tight and loyal. It made it easy, like killing a herd of elephants or, he supposed, more accurately, a pack of wolves.

PHILLIP: Phillip nodded along.

“We should figure out the best time to strike,” he said. “Do some recon — we have that amulet from ol’ Phoebus, yeah? Cloak us as we stake out.” He tried to focus on the factual details here: the old cottage on the edge of town, the hour of day they should strike, the weapons they should bring, the path they should take.

He tried not to think about families and children and Merida and Elinor and all these complicated webs that they’d found themselves tangled into.

It wasn’t their choice. It never had been. Since they were born, Phillip, John, and Tom were tools — tools to be molded and hammered into just the right shape so that they could be wielded effectively. They did what they were told, just as legions of Order men had done before them.

It was supposed to be an honor.

It was an honor.

Phillip swallowed, then looked at John.

JOHN: John couldn’t fuck this up. He took point on this mission. He’d been updating the Order the whole way through. If this got cocked up, it was on him. The fucking field day Francis would have if his only son had ruined a months long recon, despite it actually being of no fault of his own.

“Yes, we can’t let this push cloud our mission and make us panic. We’ll just strategize to get around it. That amulet will most certainly help.” He looked to Phillip and then to Tom. “I’ll pull out some aerial photos and some maps we drew from our notes. We’ll plot a course the long way around, plan for a day and into night where we can have zero distractions, phones silent, no rehearsals, no office hours.”

He sighed out pushing himself away from his chair, he needed to stand before the pressure mounting on his shoulders shoved his face into his bowl of pasta. The family would get in the way. But the Order adapted. They planned but the true mark of a Prince was to thrive under fire and under pressure. He aimed to show it.

Rather than show that he was anxious about the whole thing and was ready to pace the length of the dining room to blow off steam, he played it off as if he were going right to work on this.

“Well lads, it seems we’ve got a rapidly approaching deadline. Let’s get to it.”

#swynjohn #swynphillip #tohn #tomlip #the golden brio #sword upon our hearts #best laid plans

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prince--thomas · 4 years ago

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Clementine’s Favorite Relationships: The Order of the Prince

We were born in the valley of the dead and the wicked That our father's father found And where we laid him down We were born in the shadow of the crimes of our fathers Blood was our inheritance No, we did not ask for this Will you lead me? We were young when we heard you call our names in the silence Like a fire in the dark Like a sword upon our hearts We came down to the water and we begged for forgiveness Shadows lurking close behind We were fleeing for our lives Will you lead me?

- The Valley, The Oh Hellos

@captain--john, @knightley--phillip, @charmed-henry, @heart-of-dunbroch, @maritimeericandersen, @aurora-rosewood, (and sort of but not really: @thehuntress-rose)

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knightley--phillip · 4 years ago

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♥ 191 likes philxknightley: Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear followers. A gift from me to you lot

@captain--john @prince--thomas

#swynsta #the golden brio #phil this is gay

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prince--thomas · 4 years ago

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The Golden Line ~~ [The Golden Brio]

@knightley--phillip, @captain--john

It was a few days after Tom’s actual birthday.

And he knew that he needed to tell Phil and John about Marie. The thing was: he didn’t want to and he’d sat with that betrayal hard in his gut for days, before he had finally made up his mind. At the end of the day, John and Phil came before Marie. Before anyone. To not tell them would be dishonest. It would jeopardize their mission and their friendship.

Still, he was reluctant. His birthday, out with Marie, had been--lovely. She was exactly like a dream. Too perfect, with her golden hair and her brilliant smile. Sometimes, he wondered if he touched her, she’d melt away. Something he had conjured up for himself. The final break of his psychosis.

He was thinking this as he pushed his pancakes around on his plate, his cheek resting on his fist. Maybe she was a decoy. Something sent to tempt him away from the mission.

It felt awful to think of her this way, but it helped.

“I’ve something I need to tell you,” Tom finally said. He just needed to rip it off like a band-aid. And yet, he hesitated here, flicking his eyes up and then back down to his plate again.

“It’s about the mission.”

#swynphillip #swynjohn #tomlip #tohn #the golden brio #the golden line #hunghhhh bLUE #sorry that's all i have to say #idk who wants to go next #decide

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knightley--phillip · 4 years ago

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Ring Around the Rosie || The Golden Brio

ashes, ashes, we all fall down

The night of the mara attack, Phillip, John, and Tom deal with the aftermath...

dated: sometime in september, what is time

[tw: pretty graphic dead and burnt body description, fire, death mention, disposal of said body, also if you click that link in the lyrics it’s a creepy-ass doll, but don’t worry no jump scarce]

@captain--john && @prince--thomas

PHILLIP:

For one brief terrifying moment, Phillip saw his sister’s body animated — suspended like it was a living thing, but black and burned and charred. He felt like he might vomit. He couldn’t even make it to the closet where his weapons were, before his stomach violently lurched and he nearly doubled over.

But the body dropped to the ground. And for a split second, Phillip saw a slim, red haired figure of a girl, before it vanished into a pixie form and a snarling shadow chased it out —

At least the mara and whatever the hell the other thing was were gone.

The body was still there. The flames still caught on his bedsheets and curtains.

“Fuck, fuck,” Phil muttered, trying to get a hold of himself. He staggered, leaning on the side of the wall. It was getting hotter by the second. Phil was trying to think straight, but all he could think about was the charred corpse on the floor. He swallowed, coughing slightly, then banged his fist on the wall.

“Tom! John! Wake up ya knuckleheads, serious actual emergency for once here!”

THOMAS:

Tom was a frightfully light sleeper on a good day. And recently: he hadn’t been having very many good days. His dreams were plagued with shadows and the crackle of flames in his ears from a fire he couldn’t see nor put out. The past several nights, he’d woken up in a cold sweat after only a few hours and not gone back to sleep.

Tonight was different.

Tonight, Tom woke up to Phil’s shouts, followed shortly by the blare of a fire alarm and Gilly barking. He jerked out of bed, his feet tangling in the sheets, falling to the floor. He came down hard on his knee, but barely noticed, grabbing his sword from where it was hidden near the door and tore down the hallway. It was only the training drilled into him that had him reach for the handle with the back of his hand.

The metal was hot, but not burning, so he turned the handle and threw his shoulder against the door. It burst open, thick smoke billowing out. Tom instinctively reached to cover his nose with his shirt--only to realize he was shirtless.

His wide eyes took in the room for a moment, not even noticing the body. He was too focused on the bloody flames.

“Christ, Philly!” he cursed, and then sprung into action, ripping the sheets off the bed and throwing them over the worst of the fire.

JOHN:

John wasn’t exactly a deep sleeper but by no means was he as light as Tom. He’d manage to sleep through a girl or two Phil brought home, but once they got louder, well, the headphones and/or earplugs came out of the dresser drawer.

On this night, however, they hadn’t had any guests as far as John knew. So when there was a commotion, John instantly knew there had to be something wrong and something was in danger. Luckily, John really prepared for the worst and in taking care of these two cads, there was hardly anything he wasn’t prepared for.

Or so he thought.

At the yelling of not one, but two of his roommates and the fire alarm, John clambered towards the shouts in only his underwear ready to assess whatever thing they were about to get to with a calm and collected--

“Jesus Christ, Phillip!” He shouted, leaping to help Tom with putting out the fire, trying to find towels or anything to smother the flames, “You couldn’t just leave burning shit downstairs in the kitchen?! What did you do? Fall asleep smoking again?!”

The thing was that John very much knew this wasn’t just a fire caused by burnt food or weed because once they really stood there in the wreckage, all that was left was the smell of death and burnt hair.

“What happened?”

PHILLIP:

Phil was frozen. Phil leaned one shoulder on the side of the wall, watching as Tom rushed in, followed shortly by John. Thank God the two of them had the sense to start to smother the flames with Phil’s sheets, because Phil was frozen.

That was a lie; Phil wasn’t entirely frozen. Phil’s knees buckled for a moment. Phillip heard them shout his name — something about smoking, something about burning food — and Phillip knew that was probably justified, because he’d definitely set the fire alarm off a handful of times while doing stupid shit.

“I — “ He managed to stand up. He swallowed, trying to keep it together. “It was a mara,” he shouted. He grit his teeth. He had to help. Tom and John couldn’t clean up his messes. This was his burden. He grabbed one of his pillows off the bed, tossing it on the flames.

“A bloody nightmare fairy! Though — there was something else. I don’t know what the hell it was, but it pulled the fucking dream out. It was fire.” His voice caught. “And Rosie. Rosie — she’s — it’s not her. It’s not her.”

He staggered backwards again, closing his eyes as though in pain, and refused to look at the floor.

“Christ, I don’t remember learning about this shit. Aren’t fairies supposed to be easy to deal with? There was definitely something else. Some fucking shadow thing. Made the mara lose control. Fuck. Fuck.” He kicked the side of the bed, for no apparent reason.

THOMAS:

The heat of the flames stung at Tom’s skin surprisingly sharp. He had forgotten, in the midst of being a firefighter and all the insulated, protective gear that came with that--how quick a fire’s bite could be. He was sweating in moments as the flames licked up Phil’s curtains, devouring them hungrily. When John burst into the room, but body of flame flickered toward him but as soon as he jumped in to help, the three of them managed to smother them into submission.

But not without Phil shouting about maras and nightmares and Rosie?

Tom turned his head to look at his friend as he retreated from the blaze, his face pale and eyes wide, far off. As if he was still dreaming. All at once, his body jerked again and he was kicking things and cursing. Behind Tom, the flare of the fire died down somewhat, stray flames still flickering.

They still smoldered and popped, and Tom was sure if they so much as breathed on them, they were going to roar to life once more.

The three stood in an uneasy silence for a moment.

What did this have to do with Rosie?

Tom glanced around the room, catching John’s gaze for a moment, before looking for anything else to put out the last bit of flames. His gaze fell to Gilly, who was sniffing at a shadow on the floor. Tom took a step closer. “Gill, what--”

He reeled back the next second as he registered what the lump was in the half-light. Though, Tom didn’t see Rosie in the charred remains. He saw the two people he couldn’t save from the fire. He saw Cole. Tom sucked in a sharp breath as he stumbled back, feeling lightheaded. He bumped into the dresser, rattling it.

“What--how? What--”

JOHN:

Well this was certainly not what he had planned to be doing this evening. John didn’t look at the remains, because well, it was a charred body, plain as day. He did however look at how shaken up his two mates were, and it seemed like it was time to start to put things together. But first, they needed to get rid of this. John stepped into his leadership role.

He went through what he’d filed away in the back of his mind on what he’d learned from old chalkboards and books at the Order, “Mara’s feed off of your fears. It’s the basic principle. Whatever that thing is, is what you desperately don’t want to see. We’ve got to get rid of it. Both of you get dressed and we’ll dispose of this thing before it has time to do something else worse to your psyche.” He walked to Tom, clapping a hand on his shoulder, “It’s not what it seems, Tommy. C’mon handsome lad, we’ll need your strength, I’ll make sure it’s good and tied up so you won’t have to look at it.” He looked to Tom and Phil, “Either of you.”

With that he walked off towards his room to put some clothes on and his boots before returning with some of the spare linens that they weren’t using to drape over the body. He didn’t look at the thing really, he could feel a mass and a shape to it, a body certainly but he wouldn’t look or peak underneath what it was. Luckily, Gilly disliked John enough to keep away as he worked trying to secure the sheets around the dream-now-reality body so neither of his mates would have to face what they’d seen.

The one thing eating at him though was the shadow that Phil mentioned. What could it be? “Phillip?” He said, not looking up from his task, “You said a shadow followed the mara out? Made her lose control? What sort of thing has that kind of power?” He furrowed his brows, really more thinking out loud than anything. A demon maybe? But what would a demon want with a mara? “Are you sure it made her lose control and it wasn’t like they were working together?”

PHILLIP:

Phillip didn’t know why John had chased him out of his own room to get dressed.

Well, okay he did. It was to get a grip. To save face. To take a moment — both him and Tommy, who looked quite shaken right now — and gather themselves.

So Phil left. Phil followed Tom into his room and side-by-side they rifled through Tom’s drawers in silence. Underneath the smell of the laundry detergent they all used, Tom’s clothes smelled like, well, Tom. Something about that was comforting. It was a scent that wasn’t fire, a scent that reminded him of childhood summers by the lake and wrestling on the shore and riding horseback.

Phil slipped the shirt on. He counted to ten. He took a deep breath. He headed back into the room, Tommy right behind him.

John had made good work already, tying up the body in Phil’s now burned sheets. Phil’s gaze immediately fixated on it. He only looked away when John said his name.

“It attacked her,” he said. He didn’t know why he called the mara a her — it was a creature. A dark creature of the night.

(It had just been a girl; just Rosie’s age).

“In the dream,” he explained. “She was...the mara was Rosie. Then all of a sudden, the shadow came. She screamed — but it wasn’t Rosie’s scream. It was… different.”

He knew Rosie’s screams very well.

Phillip ran a hand through his hair, slumping a bit on his desk.

“Christ. I don’t know — maybe a demon? What else can enter dreams like that? Must be a demon then. Who the hell knows what it wants? More power? Maybe it just freshly escaped and a human host won’t do.” He groaned. “I can’t believe on top of every-bloody-thing else, we’ve got a fucking demon on the loose.”

THOMAS:

John’s steady, encyclopedic voice helped Tom get his head on straight. It was a familiar sound. Soothing, like the rush of the ocean in that it was constant. The words’ meaning more or less washed right over Tom, but he clung to the sound like a buoy in a churning sea. The clap on the shoulder knocked him out of his stupor and he hopped into action, leading Phil down the hallway.

He kept sneaking glances at his friend as they dressed. His face was ashen and drawn, looking more reserved that Tom had seen Phil in a while. Yeah, sometimes, they both sat down on the couch ‘round this time of night, watching shit telly, and Tom knew that there were things Phil didn’t want to say. Just like he knew that Phil knew there were things Tom didn’t want to say. This was different, however. Phil seemed withdrawn. Smaller, almost, like they were teenagers again. He hadn’t looked that way...since…

Tom thought about the body on the ground and then, John’s words sunk under his skin. Mara. Nightmare. Worst fears.

As they headed back down the hall, Tom gripped at Phil’s shoulder, squeezing once.

When Phil mentioned Rosie’s name, Tom didn’t flinch. It only confirmed his suspicions. That was what had Phil looking like he’d seen a ghost. It made Tom’s fists curl at his side and he’d never wished more that demons were creatures you could just bloody punch into a pulp. If that was the case, it wouldn’t stand a chance against Tom.

Instead, he just knelt down by the body. Rosie’s body. Except it wasn’t Rosie. It couldn’t be. Rosie had been dead for almost ten years. It wasn’t Rosie, it was just a nightmare. In the shape of Rosie. Gently, he scooped it up into his arms, so that Phil wouldn’t have to. It was light as a feather, so it didn’t burden Tom. Much.

“Well, there’s nothing for it now,” he told them with a determined set to his jaw. “We’ve got to take care of this, before anyone sees. Phil, you should stay here.” His gaze softened somewhat as he looked at his friend. “John and I will handle this.”

JOHN:

A demon.

A demon and a mara. Odd that they’d be teaming up. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a beneficial relationship to the mara was it? It interrupted it. It was manipulating it. His brows furrowed in thought as he tried to figure out what this could be. Had a mara made some kind of demon pact? He couldn’t imagine why other than some demons were power hungry and maras were sort of like that in their craving of nightmares and power over others.

At Tom’s words, John looked at him and nodded resolutely. “Yes, Thomas and I will handle it, Phillip.” He looked to his still worse for wear mate. “You should make some tea, well, drink a monster I suppose, or take a hot shower or something, clear your head of whatever that mara was trying to twist out of you.” John walked over to his mate, putting his hand gently on your shoulder, “The important thing is that it didn’t win. It got nothing from you and is most likely out there starving or something. Good riddance, I hope the demon disposed of it. Certainly narrow our targets down in this town.”

He looked back to Thomas who was holding whatever thing had come from the nightmare and spoke, “Now then, the next course of action would be where to dispose of it. No one’s going to be looking for something that doesn’t exist, but I’d hardly like to dig up our own lawn. It would draw too much attention to us, well, more than we already have.” He walked towards the door, “Perhaps the lake? Weigh it down and sink it to the depths?”

PHILLIP:

Phillip was trying to compose himself. It wasn’t working very well. He leaned his head back so it hit the wall, listening to Tom and John take care of everything.

His jaw ticked slightly as they discussed plans. He felt like a burden. Couldn’t even handle a fucking nightmare where nothing was real. He was just a sham of Prince, held together by family name, beautifully spun words, and the deeds of his friends.

He ran his hand down his face, exhaling loudly, still slumped, as he gave a small shake of his head at something John had just said.

“It had red hair,” said Phil. “The mara. I saw that much before it slipped through the window. It’s still out there somewhere. Though, I guess not as big a problem as a fucking demon.”

He looked at his friends now — Tom, carrying the wrapped body, and John standing next to him at the door — and opened his mouth to say something else. Nothing came out. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, only that, well, he was thankful that they were there with him now. Something about that made him feel deeply shameful. He turned his head away.

“I’ll go shower off this soot,” he said, giving them a two-fingered salute, as they walked out of his bedroom.

THOMAS:

John’s voice was soothing. It wasn’t often that either of them saw Phil so shaken. Even in the dim light from the hallway and the moon, Tom could tell he was ashen and pale. He had this glazed over look in his eye. Even though he was looking at Tom and John, Tom knew he wasn’t. Not really. It concerned him, but John talking, going step by step, that helped.

Tom wanted to take a shower too. His shoulder was already aching from the weight of this dream-body in his arms. He hated how real it felt. It was the darkest kind of magic and he was not above its influence.

He didn’t know what to say to Phil, so he was glad for John and his direction.

After they walked out of the room, the both of them changed into running clothes--dark and nondescript. Then, they laid the body in the back seat of the car they all shared, drove to the lake, parking in the parking lot there. They carried it and two shovels as deep into the woods as they could manage whilst getting back home in a timely manner. They dug a grave deep enough to not be shallow. They laid a stone over it. By the time they headed back to the car, it was almost six am, and the first runners of the day were arriving. It was easier than it should have been and it made a shiver go up Tom’s spine.

They went for a silent run, just to cement their alibi, then went home, showered, and resolved not to talk about the not-body again.

#ring around the rosie #johnlip #tomlip #the golden brio #tw dead body #tw death #tw fire

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