jroycethethird

[jroycethethird]

Royce knew of Noel. Vaguely. In an unpleasant way. Namely, he knew his little sister was their friend. Something about their demeanor did not sit right with him. While he wasn’t as opinionated (to put it lightly) as his parents, he was incredibly protective of his sister, and was swift to judge people she spent time with as likely unsavory company. Her words did little to temper his feelings towards the other then. “Well I would hope not — scaring a horse can be dangerous,” he huffed, carefully placing the blinders over the horse’s head and continuing to soothingly pat the animal. Fearsome beasts they could be, the man had a lot of adoration and respect for horses. His nose wrinkled at the comment on the witches pulling their own dirty stunts, but Royce didn’t comment. He himself hadn’t. Not yet, anyway. He had a sense of nobility where certain things stood. Horse racing was one of them. And he scoffed indignantly at their words. Lifting his chin, he turned to Noel then, a hand on his hip as he said, “Oh yes, I’ve got something up my sleeve: it’s called talent, as well as some good, clean strategy.” He cocked a brow, “Have you ever ridden a horse?” His rash assumption was that they hadn’t, and he actually softened at the thought. “I’m not going to play dirty at something like this. If you don’t know what you’re doing and have a spooked horse, there’s always the chance of getting hurt. I’m not interested in being the reason someone ended up with the paramedics. Trust me or not, I have some level of decency.” Sometimes, anyway. He could never commit to being a ‘good man’, even if he tried.

Although Noel hadn't crossed paths too often with Royce, they couldn't help the natural need to roll their eyes whenever they crossed paths. Specially after Noel's friendship with Cece had bloomed. Something about him just irked them in all the right spots. They watched in awe, however, as Royce pet the horse and brushed it. Amused and confused at the same time. Just how fun could that be? "I don't know. After the stunts people have pulled in the other events? I wouldn't be surprised if some poor horse got scarred off right off the path, you know?" She had seen Rio sneak around the horses a while earlier. Rubber snakes were definitely not in the rule book. "Please, the coven has done their fair share of dirty tricks, don't you think?" Although her words were harsh, her tone wasn't. After all, Noel wasn't truly affected by the sprinklers set off earlier. The only thing the witches could do that would actually piss her off was hurt her siblings or somehow make her shift in front of people, and both felt incredibly unlikely given that Poppy was in charge. "I don't trust you, I'm sure you'll have something under your sleeve or whatever."

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“Exactly,” Royce replied in a chipper tone, “See, you get it. Some would say it’s cheating and cheating at life isn’t noble, but one must use what they have at their disposal.” He hadn’t known this Jonah fellow for long, but Royce had decided in a shocking turn of events that he quite liked him. He seemed good natured, intelligent, easy going — what wasn’t to like? “No, thank heavens. We’d have an incident on our hands if so. I did nearly get caught in college when I used the duplicate to date roommates at the same time. Clever lie about a twin brother visiting from the States cleared that up. They weren’t exactly bright — they believed me when I said that I was the Third and he was the Fourth,” he laughed at the memory, though it was only partially correct. He did come up with a clever moniker for his duplicate that didn’t suggest they had the same name. That was ridiculous, but made the story funnier. His brow furrowed, “Hmm, I suppose, but I never did make for a good coxswain, so it may not have been effective.” He waved a hand dismissively, “Nonsense — in the reality we live in now, the victory is yours, and that’s what matters. I may be a jerk but I’m not a sore loser, and I don’t need what ifs and alternatives to comfort me. You should be very proud.”

His grin widened at their shared interest of life at sea, but even so as Jonah spoke of his work. Royce hardly showed interest in other people, but he liked hearing about interesting occupations. “I once went on an excursion, replanting coral in the Indian Ocean. It was as fun as it was enlightening. That’s a very noble line of work you do, it really is making a difference in the world. To think, your contributions could keep our oceans healthy for years to come.” He could sense the weight of it, of how much Jonah missed the expeditions. One didn’t need telepathy to know. Royce often had wanderlust and would leave when things felt too fretful, too tough. It was easier for him than it was for the humans of Lunar Cove. When he crossed the boundary, everything within his mind was intact. When they did, they lost their memories. It was sobering, and he could only imagine how difficult it would be for him. To want to go on those adventurous and meaningful expeditions, but at the cost of forgetting some of his own life here. He knew it better than many realized, had seen it first hand with his wife whenever they left Lunar Cove for sporadic trips and returned. The way the memories escaped her, and then came crashing back. Like the heavy and tumbling tide bounding on the beach. Even now, without Eliza at his side, he felt an uncomfortable pang of hurt for her, for putting her through that. And she didn’t even remember it now. Royce pushed that aside, buried deep beneath his unfeeling bravado. “What was your most interesting expedition?” He asked, curious and wanting his mind to drift elsewhere. “I assume you’ve been to many a fascinating place on research assignment.”

"Of course, that makes sense, and why wouldn't you, right? They're still you and if you have it, why not use it to your advantage." Had he such a power, Jonah would likely be doing the same too. One in the lab, one out at the ocean and another one on some errand much like how Royce used his. "The classroom one is funny though, did you ever get caught?" He could easily picture that, children attempting to use their powers that they were just growing into for truancy and troublemaking. But he knew there was a fair bit of responsibility and discipline required for magic, to use was one thing to control was another. Still, it would be nice to have something the likes of that. Hearing Oxford was not one bit surprising, "Could you have had one of your duplicates yell at you?" he joked, light laugh falling through, "But that makes sense too. Maybe if this was more competitive the win would surely be yours."

As the other mentioned living on boats Jonah wholeheartedly agreed, a dreamy sort of sigh escaping, "I get that. I would love to live on a boat too, nothing beats life at sea. Yes, I'm a Marine Biologist. Marine life is the primary of my studies but there's a big focus on conservation too, especially on coral. Currently, it's in the labs at the aquarium and the beach here, but I used to spend most of my time on the ocean. Expeditions and research trips, it was a good time." He missed it immensely and the weight of it reflected in the way he spoke, but coming here, as much as he knew Lunar Cove was his home now, he missed his time on the open the open water.

[jroycethethird]

Nights like these he just wanted to be away from everything, find a dark corner in the world that was far from responsibility and who he was. A place where Royce could forget himself for a moment. In more recent times that escape came in the form of a certain banshee, but even with his determination to earn her favor back Royce needed some level of space from her. He couldn’t let himself be too involved with one person, after all, even if he found he liked her more than the average person. But only just a little, he reasoned. Not too much. Not overtly much.

He hadn’t been looking at this woman, not really. He caught sight of her alone in a corner, smoking something that he himself didn’t favor. The picture reminded him of another woman in a pub on the other side of the Atlantic, smoking alone in her corner, which left him a tad uncomfortable. But before he could look away she had caught him. Barely smirking, Royce raised a dark brow at her. “Is that a promise?” He said in a low voice, leaning back with his hands in his pocket. Or a threat? She had a vague similarity to him, but there were a lot of people in town that tended to. Until he came back from college he’d spent mostly summers and scattered holidays in Lunar Cove. Maybe she was just one of the faces from those few in between summer months. Maybe she was a vampire, frozen in time in some distant memory, looking for a late night bite. “And where do you stand on being bitten back?” His words came out in a low sigh, eyes dark and curious as he looked her over once. “If you’re into that,” he mirrored her words.

"I don't bite, y'know, you can come closer."

Taking a long drag from her joint, Catalina angled her head to the side, a playful grin playing at her lips as she studied the person who'd been glancing in her direction.

"I mean, unless you're into that- in which case I definitely bite."

@lunarcovestarters

(note: Cat grew up in LC but left at 17 and is only now returning so if your muse also grew up in LC they may already know her, feel free to assume the connection or pop into my dms! :3)

[jroycethethird]

JONATHAN BAILEY as FIYERO — WICKED (2024) dir. Jon M. Chu

[jroycethethird]

He resented any comparison to their parents, his jaw clenching in response and only relaxing a short moment later. She wouldn’t comare him to their parents — he didn’t need to read her mind to know that. Cece was the last person he’d ever have to read the mind of to truly understand. Such was the bond between them, even with the difference in ages and the years spent apart, the two were considerably close. She knew better than anyone the way the Van Doren parents could be, and the tight ship they ran with their children. JR didn’t take away their agency when he could as an act of parental protection growing up — he did it mostly to control them. The problem with Tripp was he sent him away so often and for so long that the young man learned to do without parents, hardened him against affection and the whims of others. He couldn’t as easily be controlled, and he became a problem at times. Feisty and self serving Kathy followed suit, wanting to challenge Tripp for the most attention, the most rebellion. It meant Cecile was treated differently, her expectations shifted. And since she hardly fought back, they held her incredibly close to their chests. There was no room for her to be an individual in their eyes, not when her brother and sister already caused problems for that. So they made every specially curated choice for her and wouldn’t hear it if she fought back like this, just as she reminded him. But Tripp wasn’t like that. No, he would never be like that. Not truly.

“I hear you,” he said quietly after a moment, voice low but firm and resolute. “And I support you.” He bit back his natural instinct to be more severely protective in the name of doing better by her, having heard her out and not wanting to disappoint her further. Though his stomach churned with anxiety at what that could mean, watching her participating in something as inconsequential as dodgeball giving him such heightened levels of stress, he would be better for her. She was the only one who could inspire any form of change in him. “There won’t be room for ‘I told you so’s if you end up in the hospital,” he murmured, eyes flickering away. He reasoned that should something very severe happen to her, and at the hands of another, then he wouldn’t be able to tell her he told her so. He’d probably be in jail instead, but he shook that thought away. That was a bridge they’d cross if heaven forbid something terrible ever happened to her. And it wasn’t the kind of thought he wanted on his mind as she forgave him his folly. “Love you more,” he said with a warm and genuine smile growing over his face, arms catching her as she leaned in for a hug and squeezing her close as he pressed his cheek to her hair. The temporary storm between them seemed to dissipate as they held on for a moment, Tripp pulling back only when he felt calm and secure after their little tiff. All was well, she wasn’t mad at him, and that meant all would be right. At least where Cece was concerned.

He saw the memory in her mind before she’d asked, already glancing away before the words left her lips. “I’m fine,” he said as smoothly as ever, righting himself on the bench and pushing the ice pack aside. As if that somehow meant he was all healed up. In truth there was still a dull pain, but it wasn’t as wounded as his pride. For the first time really in a few days, his dark eyes sought out the Fae Queen in the room, but she was facing away, not looking in his direction, and so he quickly gave up on that venture to instead hold Cece’s gaze. “It’ll go away. Just a temporary nuisance.” Was he talking about the pain in his crotch or the walls he’d built between himself and Aiyla? He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t focusing on that for now. Pushing himself to his feet with a quiet groan, he offered Cece his hand. “But how about you let your older brother lean on you while we walk? Just for a bit. …And maybe accompany me to get some frozen yogurt, I think maybe I deserve a sweet treat after that accident.” He grinned, a bit of amusement shining in his eyes as he waited to help her up off the bench.

As her brother listened to her, his expression a cross between concern and confusion, Cece found her temper lessening. She understood that all he wanted was to keep her safe and protected, but he could go about it in a better way. That was what she was trying to get him to understand. That just by asking her if she'd be willing to sit out during dodgeball, instead of telling her, was enough to make her feel content. "I understand you were just trying to protect me Tripp, but don't you see that's exactly what mother and father have done to me for years? Keep me away without giving me a choice all in the name of protecting me?" He had to understand, how could he not when she laid it all there for him? She would never say Royce was their parents, because she knew he had on many occasions actively chosen a different route than JR and Blythe would have. But there are moments when his instincts were similar to them. And yes, Cece loved her parents, but she was also terrified of them. She knew what expectations was put on her shoulders by them, knew how she would be treated if she did anything they considered to be wrong. It was horrible, and she knew Tripp felt the same.

Scooting a bit closer to him than previously, a clear sign that she was warming back up to him, Cece took his hand. "If I keep away from everything that could hurt me, I won't do anything. And my life has already been so dreadfully boring. I just want to live, and be as normal as possible. And if that means potentially hurting myself in a game of dodgeball, I want that decision to be one that I make. I know the risks, and I'll weight them. Please, just support me. And if I do something so incredibly stupid and wind up in the hospital... well then I give you full permission to say I told you so." She wasn't certain that was especially comforting to him, but she needed to say it. And she needed him to hear it. "I forgive you, and I love you." Leaning in, Cece wrapped her arms around her big brother in a hug, not letting go until he was ready to break it. She wanted him to know that while she had been mad at him moments ago, she also forgave him for his actions and she didn't hold it against him. Or view him in the same light that she did their parents.

When they finally pulled away, her expression softened as she remembered the ice pack and the injury he sustained during the game. "How are you feeling? That looked painful." In the moment it might have been satisfying to witness, but now she wanted to make sure her brother was capable of walking out of the gym.

[jroycethethird]

setting: july 31st, just outside bex’s place

featuring: j. royce van doren iii & bexley beck @illputabexonyou

Royce was beginning to worry he’d had the wrong place. Asking a staff member to provide him with an address for a coven member was probably not his best idea. He could have figured this out on his own, they probably had records somewhere on current members that he could have easily referenced, but he decided to leave it up to someone else to look things up for him, just as he did with most things these days. Following the directions given to him to a tee, he found himself pulling up to a place out in Echo Acres, a part of town he wasn’t very familiar with. And leaning now against the passenger’s side door of his ‘64 Shelby Cobra, a single white balloon with the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” in the plainest black font on its front in his hand, and an envelope in the other, he was thinking he may have been steered wrong. He’d been there practically five minutes and hadn’t seen Bexley Beck once. He must have looked the absolute fool sitting there like that, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he was certain. Luckily he wouldn’t have to spend much more time speculating.

Before long, she had emerged from (what he now presumed was truly) her home, and Royce didn’t need to suffer much longer. “Bexley Beck,” the coven advisor called out in a jovial tone as she came closer. “Hi there. Royce Van Doren,” he offered his hand in greeting, swapping the balloon into the same hand that clutched the envelope upon which her name was written in his bold, cursive script. “I don’t think we’ve ever had the chance for proper introductions, and I’m sure this may seem an odd way to go about it. But ah,” he motioned to the balloon and gave a well rehearsed charming grin, the kind he gave to his step mother’s friends at the country club when they asked him to join them for a round of drinks between racquet sports. One that he didn’t realize then that she had likely seen on a somewhat similar, albeit aged, face at her workplace. The kind that didn’t quite touch the eyes but could still be construed as charming and genuine. “I heard it was your birthday and figured as the coven advisor it would be good to stop by and wish you a wonderful day in person.” He bowed his head at the admission, as though it were some humble thing. That would be diminished in mere moments as he then offered up the envelope. “I didn’t come empty handed, either. I hope you will accept this small gift, for your birthday but also as appreciation for your contributions during the group events at the camp retreat earlier this month.” A ‘small gift’ which she could open to reveal a rather substantial check. One with perhaps too many zeroes for a normal gift. Certainly a ridiculous number considering her contributions to the event weren’t as much as other coven members, but that was beside the point. He was notoriously bad at gift giving, very specifically bad for his own bank account.

[jroycethethird]

@jroycethethird

[jroycethethird]

Jonathan Bailey as Tim Laughlin in “You’re Wonderful" (Fellow Travelers - 1x01)

Gifs 39/?

[jroycethethird]

setting: campgrounds, first night

featuring: j. royce van doren iii & nate windsor @nate-windsor

After settling into the tent, and marveling at the whole thing — it was his first time doing something quite like this, after all — Royce found a moment to politely excuse himself from Aiyla, needing to do one small thing aside from brushing his teeth and his nightly routine before intending to close off from the rest of the world and just be with her for the rest of the night — check in on his favorite little sister. Not that he was worried exactly about Cece. He had promised to believe in her and support her no matter what… But as her older brother, it was only right to check in, wasn’t it? What would be so wrong with ducking his head into her lodgings and being sure that she was safe and sound? Try as he may, he would always be just a little concerned for her, and the last thing that he needed while being alone with the Fae Queen he’d done so horribly wrong this past week was to be distracted by fretful thoughts for his sister. What if she ended up with that dreadfully high net and rolled off of it? He just needed to be sure she was fine and secure, that’s all.

Walking about the campgrounds, smiling pleasantly at fellow coven members but avoiding most eye contact with others — and their curious thoughts at seeing who he’d paired off with — the witch glanced about for the familiar face he sought, finally stopping once to ask that jovial dolt of a vampire if he’d seen his sister around. About this tall, hair spun from gold, sweetest smile you’d ever seen? The towering fellow pointed towards a blanket fort, and he let out a sigh of relief. That seemed safe enough, and cozy, albeit a bit open... Perhaps it would be fun for her. Drawing closer, Royce had realized he couldn’t remember who she’d paired with, but shook his head at the thought. No matter — likely she was paired off with a friend. Perhaps her human boss… Windy? Winona? What was her name? He tried to recall it as he drew closer, having it surely at the tip of his tongue for a proper greeting as he ducked his head in to see—

“….Grocery Boy?” Left Royce in a truly baffled tone as his brown eyes landed upon none other than Nate Windsor, alone in the blanket fort that was supposed to be Cece’s bed for the night. Cece’s bed… Not his bed, of course. Friends could visit (were they friends??), but there were rules, and they were all winding down for the night… Did he look like he was settling in, or was he just visiting like Royce was? But surely… No, of course not… His darling, sweet as a pie, innocent little sister was not sharing a blanket fort for two nights with this guy. This stranger, this wild card he had no inkling of and who he surely could not trust to be beside her for two nights. The giant vampire was mistaken. Of course he was, this was not Cecile’s teammate, or her lodgings, it was just a silly misunderstanding, but… His eyes landed on a familiar suit case inside the blanket fort, one that his duplicates helped lug into the campgrounds for her. That’s Cece’s suitcase, alright, but then… “What in the devil are you doing here?” His mind was instantly flooded with a deep sense of denial as he looked at the other, the furrow between his brows deepening as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the young man. “You’re not bunking with Cece Van Doren.” He said it as though it were fact, as though he could will it. But he knew he couldn’t. He knew the rules for this event, how they all had to be paired off, how they couldn’t swap bunk mates, and yet… Royce just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Cece… sharing a frankly romantic looking blanket fort with a boy. She’s not supposed to like boys yet, she’s too young to like and canoodle with boys, he thought incredulously, forgetting in an instant that the sister in question was a grown woman.

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His head fell back with a deep sigh. “I can’t even be mad, that was incredibly clever,” Royce said between chuckles at the use of that damn nickname in Jake’s head after he’d promised to never speak it again. Royce hummed in response to his words, watching the pier grow smaller beneath them as the carriage continued its ascent up and around the ferris wheel. His eyes drifted to the water, how the lights danced on its dark and gloomy surface at the comment on not knowing he cared so much. “About the Coven?” He guessed the response, noting the pleasant surprise on the other’s mind. “What if I just cared about winning?” He had joked, though he couldn’t commit to the but for long. “But yes… I care a great deal,” Royce added quietly after a beat. There was a thickness in his throat as he thought about why he’d accepted the position of Advisor, and what exactly he’d given up out of duty and care for the Coven.

He pushed the thoughts away as Jake’s drifted in an interesting direction. Royce’s eyes followed his hand’s movement, at the ferris wheel which shined bright and took the victors round and round. All because of their magic. The line of his thoughts was clear without Royce needing to read it. A fascinating thought that he hadn’t focused on before. What more could he do with these powers aside from the practical ways he used them? He glanced at his hand, conjuring small bolts between his fingers and feeling the electricity thrumming in his veins. His first inherent ability, the one he had the most time with… He never thought of how devastating the power running between his fingers could be. But scientifically it made sense, the kind of damage they could cause if they really honed it in together. After all — getting shocked by lightning could be devastating. “Are you suggesting we put our heads together to see if there are sparks between us?” He raised a brow as a smirk pulled at his lips, the words sounding like a joke, but… It did intrigue him deeply.

Then Jake’s intrusive thoughts invaded his mind and Royce looked away once more. It was odd to see the event from another’s perspective, and to hear their theoretic thoughts on it. It could have amused him, had Royce not been so forlorn over it all. But he swallowed such a thought, looking the picture of indifference as he hung a hand out the side of the carriage. Tapping his fingers rhythmically on the side of the carriage, he glanced about at the lights as he replied. “If you have something you’d like to say about it, Jake, you can just say it,” he said in an even voice, seemingly not pressed about it, “No point in dancing around what you saw happen.” Dark eyes falling back on Jake, Royce shrugged, this time his voice a bit small, “But, yes, I suppose it did.” But it wasn’t a serious affair, he reminded himself. It never meant much of anything to him. He swore she never meant much of anything to him at all. Not even a little.

And yet.

When Royce joined Jake in the carriage he cheered, albeit he was a little surprised. He'd expected the other witch to decline. If anyone could be unfazed by peer pressure, he thought it the coven's advisor. Yet, he was profoundly glad for the unexpected company on his ride around the wheel. It compounded upon the hope Jake felt that this experience changed things. A brilliant play on Elif and Safiye's part, as their efforts brought species alike and different together. "Roycey will never again cross my lips.." He promised with a smirk that gave away his amusement at having said the ridiculous nickname just once more. "I'd offer you Jakey, but that doesn't seem fair if I can't.." Call you Roycey, he finish his sentence in his thoughts alone as he kept his promise that the name would never cross his lips again. "We did good." He echoed, heavy emphasis on the plural. "You really put in the work." There was no hiding his surprise. His thoughts weren't his own in the presence of a telepath. "Didn't realize you cared so much." Another happy surprise. He thought, if Royce cared about this, maybe..."We're good together. We made this thing work." He gestured to the ferris wheel. "Think what else we could do." His thoughts articulated the picture better than his tongue. Jacob wondered what sort of power they could wield together with their like magics. A weapon of shocking proportions. Should they need it, which he worried they inevitably would. "This win seemed to cost you something.. personal, huh?" From the top of the wheel during capture the flag, Jacob had spotted Royce and the fairy queen. He tried not to think about it, but his mind was weak to intrusive thoughts.

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“I…” He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing could come out. For a moment his jaw bobbed, as though he were attempting words but did not know how to properly form them. Tripp had wanted to say he asked her, that he had consulted with her and they came to the conclusion together… but as he thought back on it, he knew it wasn’t true. How many times so far had he placed a hand on her shoulder and simply said, “You’re not doing this one.” Apparently a couple times now, and he was likely to keep doing it as the games continued. He simply told her that she wasn’t to go out there and participate. In his heart it was all well intentioned — mental images of Cece fallen and hurt, bloodied and bruised, crossed his mind as the trust falls were announced. He knew how their family was viewed around town. He knew how he was viewed. It was the curse of telepathy, the knowing what crossed people’s minds when they saw him. He worried that their association would taint others’ view of the most wonderful person he’d ever known, that her carrying their cursed last name was enough for others to write her off. The fear that someone would let her fall, that an injury could have been sustained that harmed her greatly that she couldn’t just “walk off”, had him pulling her aside and demanding she not participate. The same went for dodgeball, another mental image of Cece being tackled down by hundreds of balls, thrown with such force, scared him to the point of once more directing her to the sidelines. And now looking back on it, he saw he didn’t give her a moment to decide for herself. Jaw tightening, he glanced away, half ashamed and half irritated by this overall argument. Part of him understood her, but another part felt she was taking this out of proportion. He was trying to protect her — couldn’t she see where his heart had been?

Before he could respond properly, she began speaking of their parents and how they had made all the choices for her. In truth, he wasn’t around much in her childhood. The nine year difference between them meant that he had been off at boarding school when Cece was first born, only having met her during spring break when their father permitted him to come home for a visit. Most of her childhood he’d only seen her during summers, or when he’d done well enough for JR to allow him home for holidays. Then he went to school in England and he hadn’t come home really until after graduation, and with a wife on his arm. She was already a preteen then, on her way to becoming a young lady. He’d missed so much of her life, continued to while being a devoted husband and business owner. Did he ever truly understand her plight or how overbearing their parents were on her? He wasn’t around much to really see, and he cringed internally at it. He should have known, he should have been more empathetic. They were from the same stock, after all. At least partially. He should have known how overbearing their parents were, and how much like them he was when he made decisions for her. Just like their wretched father, enacting his will upon them and forcing them in like the way he wanted. JR would pull her out of things no question, tell Cece what she couldn’t and couldn’t do — what she wasn’t capable of. He felt sick realizing he had been no different, and over inconsequential games no less. Disgusting, he thought, that this apple did not fall far from the tree and had a bit of the rot within.

After a beat, he let out a silent sigh, setting the ice pack aside. He turned his whole body then, straddling the bench they were on to fully face her. Then carefully, debating for the smallest moment whether he should before ultimately doing so, Tripp took a hold of Cece’s hand. “I do support you,” he said quietly, “And I’m very sorry if I made you feel or think otherwise. That was never my intention. I see now that maybe it was pigheaded of me… But I wasn’t here to truly see your struggles for all those years, and even when I was around I had always been occupied with other things to truly see how limited father and mother made you feel. Whether it was with work, the Coven… Eliza.” It felt weird, foreign, to say his ex-wife’s name out loud. Like he hadn’t voiced it in so long. His tongue felt fuzzy, but he pushed on, “I’ve seen you at such random spurts… it’s often hard to reconcile the woman you have become with the little baby I held for the briefest moment before going back to school all those years ago. Or the little girl greeting me when I’d come home for summer vacation between semesters, the little miss of Verdant Vale Hall when I graduated and officially came home for good.” He smiled fondly at the memories.

“I know it’s terribly unfair, but you will always be someone I will want to protect to the fullest of my capabilities. And that can cloud my judgement. I didn’t see it as taking a choice from you, I saw it as the only way to ensure you’d be okay. I’m sorry if I took your agency from you, Cece. I promise I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings intentionally. I just…” His mouth twisted sourly, his eyes softening as he whispered, “…I don’t want to ever see you hurt.” His gaze briefly flickered to Altan, the memory of what had happened to him moments ago when the game came to an end at the hands of one of the banshees filled his mind. “Some people can be volatile and act without hesitation, or concern for other’s well being, sometimes out of impulse and wrought emotions,” he said, considering the moment that had passed after the game, “and I am prone to expect the absolute worst in others.” He expected it… Because he could be the worst of people. Tripp knew this, knew his greatest flaws. Self serving, too cunning and ambitious for his own good, callous when he wanted to be. He would inevitably disappoint, he’d always proven it. Even to those who mattered most to him. “That clearly doesn’t excuse me… But you are one of the few I deeply, truly care for in this world. I didn’t know how else to approach it. I assumed you would feel better off not participating, didn’t think it needed to be discussed. I didn’t realize it would affect you so. But I see that I was wrong, and for that I sincerely apologize.” Squeezing her hand gently, he gave Cece a small but guilty smile, “Can you find it in you to forgive me?” She was perhaps the only person he could ever truly be apologetic to, knowing full well it would upend him if she didn’t forgive him his folly. “I promise I won’t stand in your way of participating again, in this retreat or in anything else that comes in the future. I will let you make the choice, and I’ll support your decision… Even if it means swallowing my own fears and concerns for you. You are capable, I know this. I don’t want you to think I don’t believe in you.”

The was Tripp looked out at the gym, where others were starting to trickle out after the dodge ball game ended, Cece wanted to scream. She knew what he was thinking. They were in public, they were unable to engage in such a tiff just in case someone were to take note of it. God forbid comment on it, and it somehow get back to their parents. And of course the moment the idea passed through her head, Cece tried to relax herself and act as though she were not mere seconds away from storming out and walking home to have some time to calm down.

She understood why he wanted her to sit out. She was aware of her illness and all the prolonged effect it had on her body. She knew she was more prone to breaks and bruises and bleeding then the average person, but that did not mean she should simply sit out of every experience that could harm her. She had done that for nearly ten years of her life, and she was sick of it. Taking a deep breathe in an attempt to compose herself, Cece tried not to allow any tears to fall. Although she could feel the warm prickle behind her eyes. "Tripp, I will always appreciate you're willingness to protect me. But that is not what is upsetting me. What is upsetting is that you decided for me, that I would not be participating. You did not ask me. You did not advise me. You simply made the decision for me, and that is what hurts. And has me so furious."

Perhaps it had been her fault for assuming he'd understand how this would feel to her. How once more the people in her life were taking away her choice and deciding for her. But she had always felt the closest to Tripp, out of everyone in their house, so of course she had assumed he would have been able to see what this was all about. "I could give a damn if these events are fun or boring or anything in between. What I care about is my choice to entertain them was taken from me. Just like everything else in my childhood, someone else decided what I was going to do. I am no longer that sickly child, Tripp. I want to experience everything life has to offer. Even if that means falling into the hands of our neighbors." Her voice had started to get higher as she got worked up, so she attempted to steady herself once more. "I still have so many things I can not do, because mother and father would not approve. All I am asking is that you do not make my decisions for me as well. You are my big brother and I would just like to feel supported by you. You're the only one in this family I can turn to for that." Her parents would always be her parents. And her relationship with Kathy was not as strong as she had hoped it would be. But Tripp had always made her believe in herself. That's all she wanted.

[jroycethethird]

He didn’t mean to laugh at Jonah’s confirmation he’d fall for such a trick. Well he did, because it was absolutely hilarious, but Royce didn’t mean for it to sound mocking in anyway. But his head tipped back as a loud laugh escaped him. Luckily the tone at which the other admitted it made it seem less shameful and all part of a friendly chat, so he assumed he hadn’t offended. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’d be the only one,” he said with an amused grin. As Jonah spoke, Royce nodded his head slowly, confirming, “Deployed works,” during a natural break in the other’s words. He chewed over the question, knowing to some his response could be unsavory. Then again, a lot of things about Royce was unsavory to others, so with a light shrug he finally confessed, “All the time.” Then after a beat, he elaborated, “I use the duplicates a lot for business. Have one sit in on a meeting while I’m in the other room dealing with other things, send another on time sensitive errands at the same moment. One time I sent one in for an exam while I loitered outside the classroom. Most people can’t be in two places at once — if I play my cards right, I can. And I enjoy taking advantage of that.” It was odd to take apart why he was the way he was, or why he had certain abilities naturally. The duplication felt like some kind of armor, a way for people to interact with him without always seeing the real him. Not that many saw that often on a deeper level, but… Well that was to be unpacked an entirely different time. He raised his brows at the other, “Well that’s very impressive, nonetheless.” A genuine compliment, doled out with a charming grin. Royce nodded, “I did competitive rowing for years, including all my years at Oxford. Men’s eights, coxed boat. Perhaps that’s where it went wrong — I’m used to being in a stern pair and having someone yell at me while I go.” It had been a lighthearted joke, reference to how things worked in the boats he used to compete in. “But I also still spend a lot of time in boats. I think I prefer it — the gentle rocking, nothing but water all around, that calm serenity... If I could live full time on my yacht, truth be told I would.” His brows pulled together, “You study… Marine life, correct? Do you spend a lot of times out at sea, or mostly in a research room on land?”

Not expecting to hear that, Jonah laughed at what was said, "That actually would be funny," he agreed, "And if I'm being honest, I would fall for it too." It was less a shameful confession and more just stating an open fact, he would indeed fall for such a trick. But before he had the moment to continue on that ramble that surely would've been voiced, the other Royces vanished laving one behind and that positively had Jonah beaming at the display of magic, "Has that happened before? Where people meet the real you first and then duplicates? I mean, not you..uh.. deploying duplicates bit but overall? Also...is that right word? Deploy? I'm not sure the functions of magic or the proper terms yet, it's still something of a wonder to me." With a breath to control his tangents, he shook his head, "Not really, no, I was just on the swim team. But I've been on many boats in my life, so I just picked it up from that? Did you? You seemed like you knew what you were doing setting the pace and everything."

[jroycethethird]

The soft squeeze of her hand on his thigh would have normally invited him to take a hold. To pull her hand to his lips where he’d press the softest kiss to her knuckles, just as he did whenever they were like this driving together, typically to or from council meetings or the gallery. On their way to her place or his to enjoy an evening uninterrupted and alone. When he pulled up to her cottage, but did not shut off the car, there was a split second where he thought about what it may have been like if he did. If he’d let things be, put the confrontation with his father behind him, and did what he wanted to in that moment. Follow Aiyla up the walk to her door, lose himself in her arms and bedsheets until dawn broke. Arrive to the next round of activities sleepy but satisfied, meeting her eye across the way with a wonderful shared secret stretching out between them.

He leaned into her touch, eyes closing briefly when she called him baby in that soft voice. When he opened them again, he was staring forward, back at the road. Royce swallowed at her words, not meeting her eye as he gently shook his head. “I’m really tired,” he finally said, his voice surprisingly even and calm despite everything warring within him. “Big day tomorrow.” He spoke in short spurts, small phrases which didn’t really indicate much at all. He wasn’t tired, not really, and tomorrow wasn’t that much of a big day. But he couldn’t go in with her, not if he wanted to spare them both a scene. One that wasn’t just said in his father’s head. He swallowed back another response, the desire to say maybe next time, and instead waited for her to climb out of the car.

Royce hadn’t expected for her to lean back in, to take a hold of his face and pull him in for a gentle kiss. So soft, he didn’t register it fully. She was whisking away by the time he reacted and leaned back in for another kiss, blinking at her and the question on her lips. “Of course,” he replied, hands gripping the steering wheel tight to keep from reaching for her. He watched her silently as she left the car and walked to her door. Eyes on her as she looked back, waiting until her door closed behind her before he sped away, back to his lonely bed in his lonely house in Celestial Hills, a thought itching at the back of his mind as he drove off into the night.

I should have gone inside.

[ capture the flag ]

The days were stretching before him and all Royce wanted was for things to be over. Not that he wasn’t having fun — mishap between a delicate part of his body and a dodgeball aside, the Field Days had been a great time. He’d seen the coven in victory after victory and took immense pride in their group. The way they came together and worked despite the odds to achieve a unified goal. After being the brunt of jokes in the council room, on the receiving end of some rather large tragedies, and fearing the morale dipping in the group, there was nothing he wanted more than to see them succeed. And seeing each of them step up, seeing how they strategized and worked together, watching in moments that each individual shined with their skill and magic, he thought maybe things could be looking up for them after all. He thought they were a truly remarkable group of people.

When the Capture The Flag teams had been laid out, he saw another hurdle looming in their path. Vampires and Faeries were a devastating pair to come up against. The speed and agility of the first, matched with illusionary abilities and flight of the second, alongside the pluckiness of the humans grouped with them, meant they had to be cunning as a group. Brute force wouldn’t be enough — ingenuity was required. Royce had thought as much when they began strategizing what to do, knowing at his core that the other team would place their flag in a high place and use their shared abilities to keep anyone from reaching it. And the more he tried to anticipate their plans, the more he figured one thing to be true: a sure part of a winning strategy would likely involve those portals being used to keep the enemy team away as much as it could be used to bring Team Lunar’s flag into their own territory. He knew he could do little about the vampire abilities, or the fae illusions, the sheer determination of the humans, and the like… but he could stop one useful trick.

If only he’d more properly thought his next steps, and their likely after effects, through.

When he’d jogged onto the pier, his heavy breaths were as much from the exertion of a long run as they were from overextending his duplication abilities. Truly, he wasn’t sure he’d made as much duplicates of himself before then, but he needed to in order to trick his way to the end goal. He was gambling off a hunch, and put every shred of his magic on the table. Luckily, he’d always been good at poker. Seeing her there, he’d almost given up his resolve all together. The wall he’d put up between them, deigning to push her as far as possible over this week until his family returned to their gilded prison and he could go back to his life without their eyes on him. It was a ridiculous plan, perhaps as much as the one which propelled him across the pier and towards her. What was if he not cocksure?

Seeing her pull up a portal that would whisk him far from there, he’d not been given a chance to unpack why it shrank when her eyes crossed his face. There wasn’t much on his mind as a smile he hadn’t expected himself to spare grew over his face upon his approach, seeing her struggle but ultimately manage to pull up a new one. His smile faltered at her words, but did not drop entirely. Déjà vu was funny like that. Chest heaving with a deep breath, he looked up at the woman fluttering above him with his usual charming smile, but it was softened at the edges as it always was when he smiled for her. Impressive and beautiful, her wings spread proud at her back. He had a vision of his father’s unimpressed face and it only caused his heart to skip a beat as it galloped in his chest.

“Looks like it is,” he finally responded between slightly labored breaths. He was getting too old for all this running, it would seem. Royce shook his head as he held out a hand towards her, beckoning her down as he stood still and resolute on the pier. “But I’m not here for what you think I am,” he lied so easily, perhaps the glorified trait to being what he was and not what she was. He didn’t have to cleverly bend the truth, he could just deny it outright. “We both know I’m not getting up there,” Royce pointed with his other hand, not stretching out to her, toward the top of the Ferris wheel where he could see their flag waving in the ocean breeze. “I came here for you,” he finally said, exhaling slowly. This was where the truth became muddled — because he had his ulterior motives, he had his plan, but… When he saw her, something flickered inside of him, and Royce wasn’t sure what he was feeling then. Don’t kid yourself, he’d thought privately, You had told her once you weren’t bred to be sentimental. You know you’re not truly capable. He tried to bury whatever was weighing in his chest, stretching out both hands towards her as he signaled for her to float down to him, into the circle of his arms. “Come here… Please,” he urged in a soft voice. “I just want to talk.” There was a small beat before he added, “I miss you.” For a flicker of a moment he registered just how honest the words had been.

If there was a way to portal them back to before JR Van Doren showed up, Aiyla would have taken his hand and pulled him through without sparing his father a passing glance. She did not know this man who took up space with every word he said, seeming to stretch him out bigger and bigger until Aiyla thought maybe his words could suffocate her. He was kind, or so it seemed. He was polite, but perhaps just in the way he twisted his words. She wasn't sure of anything about him, as if something slithering and sharp was beneath the surface of a polite, concerned father. Something she couldn't pluck from him but could see in the way Royce shifted into some version of himself she did not know.

Aiyla wanted nothing more than to reach out and tell him it was okay; she was there. Whatever it was, be it embarrassment at being caught or maybe something more, she couldn't tell, and he couldn't answer. Her chest tightened around the things she wouldn't dare say aloud. Her brows furrowing together as she looked between father and son and decidedly to Royce. Her Royce...well, no, not really. Not hers, no. Mon beau, my beautiful, beautiful boy, she thought with a soft sight, her eyes sweeping up his face and back to his father's, an almost accusing look in her eye that she blinked away quickly. "It reminds me of the Baysal Estate in France," she replied, "I feel fortunate to have been able to be one of Verdant Vales's select visitors," Aiyla didn't give more away, her tone remained polite, guarded in some ways as she tried to figure out what sort of man JR was. Aiyla wanted to ask what he meant if he was speaking plainly as she so often felt Royce did, or if there was some depth hidden in his words. A meaning she wasn't privy to.

The way he said best had Aiyla's fingers curling into her palms. She smiled over at Royce, genuine pride briefly eclipsing her concern, "I agree, the best," she tilted her head back to JR, her smile dropping, "Faeries," she said plainly, the term your kind making her nose briefly twitch. "If you're curious, the town hall has pamphlets, but if you're more into close-up learning, Pucks Luck is always happy to accept clients," Aiyla smiled invitingly, though she wasn't sure she felt hospitable. "As I said, a great man," Aiyla did not hide the emphasis on the term man. He was not a boy or a child; maybe JR meant nothing by it. Perhaps it was a father's affection for their child, but there were only so many maybe's Aiyla could take after hearing the phrase your kind used in such a way it made her skin crawl. "Oh? I thought he spent a lot of time at boarding school?" Aiyla smiled, unsure why she couldn't just let JR take credit for the man Royce was, "That level of early independence must require so much efficiency. Though, a good education is priceless," Aiyla tacked on to soften the double-edged meaning of her veiled accusations.

He finally spared her a look, her brows furrowing. Are you okay? She thought, her chest tightening while she held his gaze for as long as he would allow. "Pragmatic," Aiyla corrected again, twirling a curl nervously around her finger, "It'd been a long day. Had I known your family was here, I would have invited you all along for a better view," Aiyla explained. She tilted her head towards her shoulder, deciding she did not like Royce's father. He didn't seem the sort of man who listened to anything you said; she'd asked him to call her Aiyla, only to be disregarded in that polite tone once again that she knew, like her own mind, the French practically invented pretenses. She gave him a slight nod, "I'd never deny him a perfect view." She wanted to ask him to stay, to not go with him if only to save him from whatever thing between father and son that had turned him into a shell of himself. Aiyla pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, "not you, Royce," she said the name flatly, without any emotion or tone; it wasn't the name of her Royce, her head tilting towards the man she was seeking, "Royce," she said again gently, the reverence of a name that mattered, his father damned she wanted to understand, to bridge this gap and run away.

Aiyla took a small, shivering breath, her eyes lingering on Royce after he looked away. "I am a Queen, Mr. Van Doren," she fell back into saying his surname, her dark eyes trying like hell to look through him, to discover who the hell this man was beneath the fake pleasantries, "A portal hardly exhausts me, but of course." she conceded despite wanting to fight for him more. Aiyla's expression soured, watching how he led his son away without a parting word. This was more than embarrassment at being caught kissing. Look back she thought, I'm sorry, followed in the silent stretching of her mind. Aiyla stood alone, her arms wrapped around her, watching them go further down the beach. A swell of confused emotion tangled in her throat; she couldn't look away.

Aiyla did not leave the spot where she stood, not even after they had gone, and she was left with a sick feeling in her stomach. Her legs wobbled under the unspoken weight, and slowly, she folded herself to the sand, eyes dropping to the crash of waves. Again and again, she watched sea foam race in and out, sticking to sand and washing away. She couldn't bring herself to look to the sky, watching the dark water reflect bursts of light. She wished herself bolder and different instead of shivering alone in summer breezes.

a short time later-

By the time she realized the fireworks had ended, the beach was mostly empty; unfurling herself from the place she'd taken in the sand, Aiyla stood half in a daze, no closer now than before to understand what had transpired between them. She was strolling away from the beach, weaving in and out of the thinning crowds, giving her parting goodbyes to friends when she caught his eye, a small returned wave and a private smile that remained with her after the majority of the people had left. Aiyla strolled easily to him, "Hey," she whispered warmly, her fingers brushing slowly up his arm, her chin tilted up as he ducked as if he would kiss her. Her eyes fluttered as if they would close, her heart turning over when he did not close the space and instead opened the door.

"Thank you," Aiyla replied politely, her doe-eyed gaze lingering on his face a moment longer before she quietly sighed and slid into the passenger seat of her favorite car. Buckled in, she leaned back, her head pressing into the back of the seat, her face turned towards him as if the silence would somehow magically be filled with answers simply because she willed it so. Aiyla turned her gaze to the passing scene, the dark town streets of their sleepy town lit with neon diner signs and the warm glow of street lamps that passed them at a slower pace than usual. The radio filled all the silence between them, and the longer it stretched, the more Aiyla hoped this drive could go on all night. The closer she came to her cottage, the more she feared that this was something she didn't understand. Wordlessly, she reached across her hand resting against his thigh; she squeezed as Doris Day sang

mine to hold as I'm holding you now and yet never so near mine to have when the now and the here disappear

As he stopped in front of her cottage, the prolonged rumbling of the engine felt like an answer to a question she wasn't brave enough to ask. Slowly, she removed her hand from his thigh. Turning to face him, her brows furrowing, Aiyla frowned, sweeping her fingers through his hair, "Baby," she started as if she would ask him what had happened and hope he would tell her and put this unfamiliar ache to rest. B "You're not coming in," it wasn't a question but an acknowledgment that pained her to address. Aiyla nodded, though she did not understand. Her fingers dropped down the side of his face. As the song was coming to an end, she got out of the car, lingering a moment before leaning back inside across the seat, Aiyla took his chin in her hands and very gently pressed a kiss to his lips, "I'll see you later?" she asked before she left the liminal space and made the slow walk to her front door, looking one last time over her shoulder before disappearing inside.

-Capture the flag-

After the fourth unanswered text, Aiyla had resolved not to reach out again, despite her longing for answers that only mounted the longer time between them spread. The silence was an answer; flirting blatantly with Daphne Bishop right in front of her was an answer. Watching them disappear together was an answer. Reminders that what she thought she meant to him and what she did must not have aligned. Aiyla shoved it all into neat boxes; she had grown weary with the mounting anger that had been failing to suffocate all the soft feelings she had nowhere to put down. One careful look at her, she feared anyone could see right through her and discover the truth of all her misplaced affection.

It was easier to focus on winning than the tremble in her chest whenever she thought of him, opening portal after portal and sending people who would snatch their flag as far away as safely possible. A strategy that served her well as no one had made it close enough to the Ferris wheel yet to take their victory. Her gaze shifted upwards a moment, and briefly, Aiyla wondered if they should have hidden it lower to the ground to throw the other team off. Yet, there was no time to contemplate already planned out strategy when she heard the tell of footfall growing closer. Aiyla readied a portal just in case, back to the opposite end of town, only to watch it flutter around the edges when a familiar face that felt too strange to be seen now made himself known.

Her portal shrank; Aiyla frowned, her eyes not leaving his face as she struggled briefly to pull up a new portal, "I think this is you," Aiyla nodded towards the new one she had managed to pull up. Her guard up as she spread her wings at her back, fluttering just a few inches above him.

[jroycethethird]

The heat was irritable, but Royce was alight with an all together different feeling. Brimming from the pit of his stomach up into his chest where butterflies unfurled and danced dizzyingly all around in him, heart galloping along to their delightful dance. Competition could awake many sides of the man — fearless leader, daring tactician, and cutthroat ambition, but the biggest feeling overall was the excitement of a well fought match and even more well earned victory. And he worked his ass off to try and come up with plots and strategies to help the coven gain the upper hand in as many places as he could. He was so fortunate that most of the sporting events on the docket were things he himself excelled at, things he mastered while spending years away at that dreaded boarding school in Vermont, growing and shaping himself into the man he was today. Among the many things he took pride in and excelled at was archery, having been a member of the club at his school for several years. Of course he stepped up, duplicates beside him, to make a stunning display of hitting bullseyes, finding an ease in the event and even more so with the socializing between. He saw no reason to be unkind to his fellow competitors — not yet, anyway — especially when they were doing a smashing job. But he also stuck around to offer pointers to his own group, all in hopes to help progress them further in the bracket.

When Daphne Bishop approached him, he lifted a curious brow in her direction. He had, between all the advising and strategizing, been very subtly flirting with the woman. Of course he was, she checked off a set of boxes that appealed greatly to him. Attractive? Devastatingly so. Single? As far as he knew. Available? Well… her strolling up to him made him think so. But there were an additional couple boxes that worked in her favor, ones that had been excitedly told to him over a short breakfast at Verdant Vale before the family, in their purple ‘Witches’ jerseys, made their way to the first of the Field Days. “She’s a witch, you know, newer in town, and in the coven… young, but not too young for you… I believe her family is wealthy, too,” Blythe had said, and it was a moment before Royce asked who she was even talking about. “Daphne Bishop — don’t you ever pay attention to me?” He’d hardly ever when her matchmaking antics came into play, feeling like either a toy or as though they regressed two centuries in the past whenever she spoke of it. But with everything that had happened recently, Royce found himself thinking more on it. This was exactly the kind of person his parents were hoping he’d settle down with the second time, if heaven forbid he did remarry (he was heavily against it)… Why not make them think he was doing just that and once they were convinced of his charade he could return to what — or more importantly who — he’d rather be spending his clandestine moments with. Seemed smart, at least in the half awake daze he was in when he first arrived for the events. Now it was merely her attractiveness that kept him interested. And maybe her entertaining thoughts about Grocery Boy when he swept in with that flower crown, which Royce believed was crafted by another Van Doren. An entirely different matter altogether, which he wouldn’t press into — if Cece wanted a plaything of her own, who was he to judge? Considering what he was planning right then and there.

Leaning on the closest available surface, looking beautifully carefree — as much as one could in a purple baseball jersey — the man spared her an effortlessly charming smirk as she approached, eyes dipping to where they made the briefest contact before meeting her eyes. “I guess that would depend,” he spoke in a low velvety voice, leaning a bit closer to her as his voice dropped an octave. “I heard a rumor they’re going to do a pizza party for the top team. Classic group prize,” he joked, leaning away from her and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Of course he heard no such thing, but he felt breezy enough to make the stupid joke. “I was willing to toss money into the ring, but I’ll tell you what— if you make a bullseye… I’ll throw in something else as a reward.” Royce pushed off from where he’d been leaning, sauntering a bit closer to her and tilting forward so their foreheads nearly touched, “Just for you.” His smile turned a bit salacious as he added, “You might have to come by my place later to claim it, however. I don’t think it would do to give it to you in front of so many people.” He raised a brow and then continued, “Unless you’re into an audience, that is.”

Daphne & Royce - Sunday July 14th Archery @jroycethethird

Most of the event, the singular thought rolling through Daphne's mind happened to be some variation of what the fuck; this place was more and more an enigma every damn day. Vampire dentist, werewolf therapist, Faerie Queens, and whispers of magical black markets, almost like she had entered a Grimm fairy tale of the modern ages. The sheer amount of tragedy this town and the people in seemed to attract was evident enough of that, and every day that she woke up to face that this was in fact, not a dream. The proverbial cherry on top had to be the mandatory townwide field day. All her grade school nightmares come to fruition with the added ability of magical influence swaying the games had left Daphne, hot irritated and wishing for this day to end.

All the more so when her ex-husband rolled up on the CONS team sporting a rather darling flower crown that made her stomach drop. Fuck this, she thought in line with the never-ending barrage of fuck, fuck, fuck and decidedly swayed up to the coven advisor. Was it cruelty or self-preservation? Daphne wasn't sure, nor was she willing to think about it as she stood close enough that her hip brushed his as she looked up at him from under a fan of dark lashes, "What sort of prizes do we get for making a bullseye?" Daphne asked, dropping her eyes down his face. What sort of woman she was, cruel or self-preserving, she wasn't about to do it alone.

[jroycethethird]

setting: during the paired activity

featuring: j. royce van doren iii & dilan selvi @moonglowmagic

As he stood there above packages of nails and hardware, wooden slats and legs and pieces that would (hopefully) come together to make an IKEA OLDERDALEN Nightstand, Royce began to ponder whether or not he had ever had to put anything together on his own in before. He supposed the closest he really ever came were the few times he took helm on restoring parts of his cars, or putting up new gallery displays at Art In Motion. But this — this was an entirely different story. And he was ashamed to admit that his gut instinct upon opening the instruction manual was to call a member of his staff. But before he’d even dialed their number, he remembered the whole point of everything. The person he was to rely on to help was not on his payroll — instead it was the pixie assigned to work with him during this paired bonding. Glancing at Dilan, Royce wordlessly offered the manual before picking through the packaged nuts, bolts, wooden dowels, and hardware for the nightstand hinges. At least, he thought that was what they are. “How well versed are you in putting these kinds of contraptions together?” He asked as he rolled up his shirt sleeves, gazing at the pieces with a quizzical brow. Wasn’t furniture supposed to already come put together? What was the point in furniture manufacturers if they didn’t finish the damn job?

[jroycethethird]

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the Court advisor, staring at her through the sheet of rain she poured on his head, dappling the lenses of his glasses which fogged up from his furious deep breathing. The words stung, but the truth had a tendency to do so. Still, he thought this display was ridiculous all things considered. “And so you stoop to my presumed level?” Royce scoffed indignantly at her words, a cruel sort of grin painting his classically handsome face in an unattractiveness that he hoped covered his pain at being had when he replied, “Well that wouldn’t very characteristic of me, now would it?” Because of course he was selfish, perhaps the most selfish cad in town. Maybe that’s what Aiyla needed to know, before those soft affections she had for him grew beyond their control. Isn’t that why he’d always told her to not fall in love with him? Inevitably, he would disappoint her. He expected his true skills lied in disappointing a lot of people. This wasn’t new, it was a pattern, and he’d bounce back from it unscathed and uncaring.

His chin rose by a fraction, always holding himself tall and defiant when under the scrutiny of others. The backhanded compliment did not go above him. It lingered in the air between them, heavy and unavoidable. That’s what it was — a dirty tactic, a strategy. He saw a moment where he could distract Aiyla from staying on task, dangling the attention she had wanted from him all week before her, create the perfect window of opportunity for his team to win, and he took it. Without much hesitation he’d done it, and for what? A victory he thought the coven needed for morale? He’d put on the line the heart of a wonderful person and all to win a stupid game. Maybe Eliza had been right before she left. Maybe he was a selfish, heartless cad who cared for his own ambitions instead of others. Just like your father. The last bitter cruelty his ex wife had ever dished during their last fight before she whisked away in the middle of the night never to be seen again. Maybe she was right and he shared more in common with the cruel man than just their identical names.

Royce didn’t respond to the ‘compliment’, standing still and being drenched as he boiled over his thoughts, his eyes not meeting Nyra’s as he thought about Aiyla’s face the moment she’d registered why he’d done what he had done. The pure look of betrayal painting those big brown eyes he was regrettably rather fond of. While he’d held her so close, just moments after kissing her. He tasted bitterness on his tongue at the memory, his jaw clenching so tight he thought his teeth would shatter from the pressure alone. Cruel. Disgusting. Selfish. His mind rattled through all the adjectives he’d use to describe what he’d done, who he was. He’d shown just what a heartless person he could be in that moment. Perhaps he did deserve to have buckets and buckets of rain dumped on him. But then again, this outfit was expensive and being drenched through, so he was rather cross at that.

Squaring his shoulders, he stood upright and opened his mouth, as if ready to fire back, but found nothing would come out. An audible sigh drifted from him instead as whatever ego he had which held him ridiculously and pompously tall in that moment deflated along with the action. His shoulders slumped, his expression fell, and he wrung his shaking hands in a demure way. He looked the picture of ‘wet and pathetic’ as he chewed his lip, Royce trying to figure out not so much what he wanted to say as much as how he truly felt in that moment and whether or not he would put on his carefully crafted uncaring asshole mask when he wasn’t so committed to the bit anymore. When his eyes met Nyra’s a moment later, they shined with the immense regret that he had tried to hide behind nonchalance. A fraction of the remorse which flooded and threatened to drown him along side the rain cloud she conjured above his head. “…Is she that broken up about it all?” He’d asked, knowing how stupid the question was when it left his lips and yet… He’d wanted the confirmation. He needed to know. Spinning the signet ring on his right pinkie finger out of anxiety for whatever the other would tell him in response, he held his breath as he waited.

Though skies stayed clear and thunder seemed to roll in the recess of Nyra's mind. This was a rare feeling, one that hardly ever showed since she kept up a polite demeanour at all times, but frustrations grew to levels that spilled beyond control. She sought the coolness of water, sinking into its depths, tail propelling her deeper into her element. A daughter of the sea, waves bent at her command, all this power and yet... this was the outcome? It wasn't about the points, not about the games or winning, she had her fun too until now. She wasn't in the mood for such things not when Mason's death still clung to her, sorrow still twisting at her heart, Mahir's were the closest thing to family that she had now since it grew hard to track living relations any longer, but she tried. Nyra braved a face despite not wanting to do this, for what? To watch the court become more disjointed? Strengthening bonds and trusting in one another was the basis of these events, they voted and signed off on it, her and fellow leaders of this town, in agreement that this would be a good way to bolster community spirit and camaraderie. But cracks formed from the get go. Thin lines that grew deeper and wider, till it all but near broke them.

The loss of capture the flag hit harder than necessary, giving rise to a deep disappointment that settled inside her. Arguments and disqualifications, and trust being broken in a cheap, pathetic way by a fellow advisor no less. But this was not council business, no, this was personal. Staying close to the water's edge still in her siren form, Nyra observed the celebrations, nothing against it, the other team had done well, she didn't rain on their parade. Only when Royce drifted off from his teammates did Nyra let her eyes glow. A low rumbling emitting as the clouds that fogged her mind now hovered over the witch. She could've left it at that, thunder was a good enough intimidation tactic, she wasn't trying to hurt the guy but seeing that he had hurt Aiyla, the cloud and sound judgement burst in a storm.

"Van Doren," she greeted right back in an equally curt way, "Seems to be the day for immaturity, doesn't it?" she added in a sharp scoff, "The audacity you possess to say such a thing to me after what you've done is proof enough that you deserve this." She would not apologise, not yet, perhaps not even ever. "Do you maybe want to think of others instead of yourself for a change? Annoying me further will not benefit you in any way, I suggest you think carefully before speaking again. Congratulations are in order though, I'm not mean spirited, you are quite the tactician."

[jroycethethird]

If he knew what was to come ahead, Royce would have bottled up that very moment for later. The crackle, pop, and boom of the fireworks, the sea breeze sweeping through her hair, the sound of her voice, colored happily in memories of home and their dreamy eyed plans. The soft touch of her lips, the way she’d made him feel when her hands were on him and pulling him in. He should have bottled up that moment and held it so tight to his chest, until it sunk into that shriveled pit they called a heart. Barely beating, barely alive. Unable to truly care, and yet… When she laughed, or said his name, or in the unwavering way that she said she trusted him, he thought—

No. No, no, no.

You had your one shot at love, you blew it. You’ll blow this as well. You don’t have even remote feelings for her, and anyway you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it. The thoughts had repeated itself like a mantra so often when he was with her, a reminder that nothing was happening here. They were friends, nothing more. Barely that. He was just using her. This was about a physical gratification, and the moment he was satiated then he would be gone. It wasn’t serious. It was never serious…. But then why was he smiling like a fool, listening to her talk about the beach, reassuring him they were blissfully alone, making plans, pulling her close… He didn’t allow himself the space to begin unpacking everything. Not even in the days after. The moment JR Van Doren had inserted himself into the scene, everything changed. He changed. Gone was the bravado of a carefree, conceited, bastard of a man. He was quiet, still as a statue, eyes locked anywhere but the face of his father, looming over him, and the beautiful one looking at him with concern. He was shrinking into himself, listening to the small voice telling him he didn’t deserve whatever was happening between them and his father’s thoughts.

“Thank you, it’s been in the family for a few generations. We’re very proud of Verdant Vale Hall,” JR said breezily, tone polite even as he added, “Even so, we rarely accept visitors.” To keep the sanctity of our home, which you knew. You knew that, Tripp, and you still went behind my back. Exposed our sanctuary to your filth. The pure piety of his father, the irony of it, would normally earn lava hot snark from him. Where were you, old man, when mother was scared and alone? When Cecile and Kathryn were unsure how to deal with her fright? Where were you? What had he suggested to Kathy during that fateful night — Give Sinners a ring? Any other time and he’d have let that slip, spoke back to him. He didn’t this time, he was quiet and still, standing ramrod straight and tall despite feeling so very small. “The best of men,” it sounded like JR was agreeing, but Royce knew his father and knew the tone. He always propped him up, said he was worth more than anyone in this town, but that tone… in that moment, JR was seething and felt anything but the swell of pride he often afforded his son. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about… your kind,” his father did not hide the delicacy at which he spoke, “But it would appear we raised the boy right, since you speak so highly of his assistance.” I’m sure you did such a swimming job, assisting her to your wicked whims. The human, we could have abided by. We did, for your sake. But this? Honestly, Tripp… Wings don’t look good in family portraits. And out in public like this, no better than an exhibitionist on the verge of being caught for public indecency. If I hadn’t found you so soon… It would be more than fireworks assaulting your poor stepmother’s nerves.

Repugnant. Royce spared a weary glance to Aiyla then, seeing the curls tucked behind her ears. His eyes closed for the briefest of moments, taking a silent centering breath, as JR continued. “How very clandestine of you.” Is she a Banshee or a Harpy, digging her claws in you, making you act so uncouth, dragging you away from your duties. From the people that matter. The good witches of this town. You could be with a lovely girl in the coven right now, or a wonderful young man, but here you are instead. Far away from the crowd, your shame out in the open. Because of course it’s shameful, why else are you hiding it? What if it was someone else who found you like this? What if it was one of these wretched townies with their loose tongues to match your loose morals? I thought I taught you better. I thought you were a better man than this. You’re not some besotted teenage boy, sneaking off at parties and indulging in immorality for the first time. You are a grown man, you are the face of this proudly witch family, and here you are… gallivanting in the dark with an unsightly creature. “Charming as that may be, Ms. Baysal, we have a spot, with a perfect view, saved for him.”

Royce was standing still and silent, witnessing this conversation and the private one in his father’s mind, so much so that he barely missed his own name. In a mirrored movement, both men tipped their heads in Aiyla’s direction, with the same curious tilt of their brow. Because it was both their name, even if it was so rarely tossed at either when they were in a room together. He’d almost forgotten he was Royce Van Doren — in that moment he had been Tripp, the dutiful and disappointing son. Hearing her say his name, his shoulders relaxed just briefly, his head turning in her direction so his eyes were only on her. Well the good news is you’re clearly not in love with it, his father’s thoughts distracted him briefly, it’d be calling you Jasper if that were the case. The brush of her fingers pulled him back to the moment and nearly caused the corner of his lips to rise in a half smile, but instead they barely twitched, staring at her with a mask of indifference as he felt his father’s own dark gaze fall over him. He’d heard her thought after her words, the request not said where JR could hear. ‘Drive me home?’ He gave her a subtle nod, winding his hands at the small of his back and looking away from her then. He caught the flicker of curiosity in his father’s eye, but no thought to match it. Instead he heard her dulcet voice thinking, ‘It’s okay’, as she spoke to JR.

“She really does enjoy his company,” And I’d like to take you from hers. “How regal of you,” the elder Van Doren replied in a voice that was equal parts pleasant as it was mocking. You could infer it either way, but JR kept his eerily charming smile as he approached his son from his opposite side — Royce a wall between the patriarch and the faerie. “Oh don’t wear yourself out — it’s not a bad walk,” he crooned as he placed a firm hand to Royce’s shoulder blades, a pressure that urged the younger man to take a step forward in the sand. Within moments JR began to guide Royce away, until Royce’s haltingly awkward steps fell in sync with his father’s gentle but hurried footfalls in the sand. From over his shoulder, the patriarch spoke up again, “Until we meet again, Ms. Baysal. Enjoy your evening.” The words were as quick as JR’s hasty retreat, the kind smile that accompanied them instantly vanishing the moment his face was angled completely away from the Fae Queen’s gaze. Royce was about to quicken his pace, to get out of his father’s orbit, but then he’d felt the elder Van Doren’s hand move up to curve around the back of his neck in the same possessive gesture he recalled from moments in his youth, fingers subtly pinching the sides of his neck. Then he heard his father’s voice in his head, only this time it wasn’t the itch of his mind unraveling for him. Where Royce could hear the voices of others in their heads, JR had the opposite uncanny ability of placing his voice in the minds of others. Layered and loud, more deafening than the fireworks booming overhead, Royce could not cringe as his father held him by the scruff of his neck, holding him tall and forcing him forward as he used his audible inundation to overwhelm his mind.

If I ever catch you philandering with an unacceptable being — bringing said being into my house — tainting my solace and exposing your stepmother and sisters to your garish ways ever again, there will be absolute hell to pay. I will knock you out of my will, I will lock you away from the house, I will take away positively everything you own. You will be left penniless, starving and rotting on the streets, with absolutely nothing to get your useless ass out of your new predicament. I will bar you from ever seeing your sisters or stepmother again, I will taint your name in every circle of business and society you belong to or could ever dream to belong to, ruin all your prospects and leave you with no way to succeed in life. I will make your life so much a hell you will have wished I instead threatened to kill you. You’ll be nothing but pond scum when I am through with you — and even then, the scum will be above you. Drop ‘it’ or else. Do I make myself clear?

“Oh, Tripp, darling, there you are! Goodness, I’ve been asking about you all over. Come hold my hand, Kathryn seems to think she’s above it.” He blinked at the sound of Blythe’s voice, as his father’s steady hand pushed him down into the empty Adirondack chair in the sand beside her. He’d been so overwhelmed by the voice JR put in his head, he didn’t notice that his father had walked him all the way over to the spot on the beach they had somehow reserved for their family. Legs shaking, Royce wordlessly gave Blythe his hand, which she squeezed affectionately before she turned her attention back to the sky, clearly not as phased as JR’s words had suggested. With his free hand he reached up towards his ear, wondering if there was moisture leaking from them or if that was just his sweat from the tension of the moment before. When his fingers came back clean and not stained in red, he let out the faintest sigh of relief before smoldering at the fire before them.

Not once did he look up at the sky.

[ a short time later ]

Blythe was successfully tucked into the back seat of a sleek black SUV, JR having disappeared into the passenger’s seat before Royce could speak with him again. Not that he wanted to, not after that. His head was still aching from the layered loud voices he placed there during the fireworks. Added to the booming coming from the sky above… Royce felt the beginning of a rather huge migraine, the last thing he needed before things kicked off for this event. With barely much of a word he’d seen the Van Doren women into the family car and off, no promise to return to Verdant Vale as his mother wanted him to for the night. He wanted to be anywhere but there, to sleep away the irritation flickering at his temples. He’d almost hopped right into his car — a sunset pink ‘62 Plymouth Sport Fury Convertible he’d fairly recently acquired — and gone straight home until he remembered a silent promise he made. Leaning against the side of his car, he waited in silence until he saw her face in the departing crowd, a barely there smile which didn’t reach his lips greeting her, along with a covert and tired wave of his fingers. It wasn’t until the majority of the crowd dispersed from there that they found one another, and Royce paused halfway to ducking down to greet her in a kiss to instead pull away and open the passenger’s side for her, wordlessly going around to the driver’s seat after she’d settled and the door was closed behind her.

With the top closed, the night breeze flooding through cracked windows instead, and the faint sound of the oldies radio station, Royce silently drove the familiar path through town to Aiyla’s cottage in Sunny Harbor, eyes glued to the road as he smoothly drove through the dark streets, instead of volleying back towards her like they often did. He was a reckless driver at times, driving above speed limits and looking at everything but the road sometimes, but he was being responsible then, driving at the exact speed limit and keeping his eyes locked ahead. It was like he was dragging out the moment while also not living in it, focusing on the dreamy crooning of Doris Day coming from the car’s speakers rather than the woman beside him.

Again, this couldn’t happen again. This is that once in a life time. This is the thrill divine. What’s more, this never happened before. Though I have prayed for a lifetime that such as you would suddenly be mine. Mine to hold as I’m holding you now, and yet never so near…

When he pulled up to the curb in front of her house, his hand on instinct moved to shut off the ignition but he stopped himself from doing that, staring in silence at the wheel. His lips moved to form words — an offer to walk her to her door, an explanation, an apology for words she didn’t even hear — but nothing happened. Squaring his shoulders and leaning back into the chair, he turned his gaze towards her, eyes volleying between her face, and the inviting entrance of the cottage beyond her. “I think this is you,” he finally said, the first words he’d spoken to her since JR Van Doren stumbled upon them earlier. He internally cringed at himself.

When this doesn’t happen again, we’ll have this moment forever but never, never again. We’ll have this moment forever But never, never again…

Aiyla imagined the scene, Royce Van Doren in beachware windsurfing on the waves of the very beach she played on as a child. Collecting sea shells in a pink bucket while her mother reclined under a cabana reading and her father took to the more adventurous sport of surfing, much to her mother's absolute dismay, "Lacanau," she answered knowingly, "It's not far from the city. I spent many weekends there as a girl," before everything changed. Still, Aiyla had decided she would not focus on that, not right now, not tonight. She shook her head, "No, you were rather distracted," Aiyla chided teasingly. "I'm partial to my birthday, as you recall, but for windsurfing and the best weather, I suppose late spring, before the crowds but when everything is still open, would be the best," Aiyla explained while momentarily turning to face him as she walked backward, "No one is following us," she said taking notice of how he checked over his shoulder, "they're all at the beach bonfire, eating s'mores and buzzing from trust falls," she explained as if the beckon him forward into this moment with her.

Don't worry about what is behind us; be here with me, she thought before strolling beside him. The flutter of excitment at the mention of home was impossible for her to ignore. She often thought of Bordeaux in terms of bittersweet grief and childhood, longing, and discovery, all concepts she didn't usually allow herself to linger on when she thought of France. Before he suggested they go together, Aiyla assumed she'd never find a positive reason to return. Indeed, it would have been when her parents died if she would even know if they would have even planned for her to find out. Chasing the thought away with something decidedly more pleasant, she glanced his way, "Do you have a favorite?" Aiyla found herself curious about all the places he had been; she wondered how many of the same places they had transversed. Was there a moment when they were both some place at the same time? Did she pass him on the streets of Mykonos one spring and not even realize it? Has they eaten at the same places, had the same gelato from Venice?

Her mind wandered through many of the places she had been on her journey to Lunar Cove, and as she did, she imagined Royce in most of them, wondering what he was up to and what his favorites were. She would have asked aloud if it wasn't for him tugging her close as the beach bonfire faded. A swell of pride extended through her, and he trusted her. "I trust you," she replied. She had been surprised once at how easy it had been for her to find this trust in him. Years of knowing him in passing had set the start of a foundation of confidence in him, and as their time together evolved into what it was now, Aiyla found that the basis of her conviction in him was as solid as it was for many of her closest friends. Wasn't that, after all, what he was? A close friend? Her eyes volleyed to him as he spoke, his face illuminated with bursts of colorful light far more appealing to her than anything she could find in the sky. Her lips met his with matched fervor, malleable and languidly lowering into the sand where she weaved her legs through his, pressing her chest flush to his.

Aiyla explored him by touch, her hands moving along his biceps, up the nape of his neck, and tangling into his ocean breeze-swept hair. " Hmm?" she questioned, her head instinctively tilting to grant his lips more access to her shoulder. Her eyes had fallen shut. The promise of the Daydream not too far off sent a jolt of desire through her. Aiyla arched into him a silent answer before he could finish the sentence; the answer was unwaveringly yes.

Before he could finish the invitation, Royce had pulled away from her so quickly that she had hardly a moment to react. Her chest thumped oddly, and she wanted to ask if he was okay. Was there a crab she hadn't seen? Had some beach-dwelling creature bitten him? Dark eyes searched the sand, illuminated by brief but bright illuminations of explosions. She saw nothing, but all at once heard the voice that she had missed the first time. Her eyes lifted to the Van Doren patriarch's face; this was the man who had let his son believe sentiments were a weakness and punished him in a way Aiyla could not explain as anything other than cruel. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and all the concern she had felt weighed down deeper, keeping her cemented in place, unsure of what to expect.

She idly wondered how much he had seen. It couldn't have been much, as the smile on his elegant face did not appear the one of a parent who had just caught their adult child in the middle of making out. Aiyla shifted in the sand, attempting to pull the sleeves of her top over her bare shoulders, only to have them slid down again as the outfit was meant to be worn. Her face flushed bright and warm, so he had seen them? Aiyla felt oddly bare, her stomach a sea storm of uncertainty as she sat with a shiver despite the air void of any chill, watching Royce become some version of himself she did not recognize. Her brows furrowed, a flickering uncomfortable expression as Royce looked at her, through her. Are you okay? She thought, her features relaxing into something far more neutral. She wished he could have told her what he needed. Did she need to make an excuse to leave? What was his father thinking? Was he listening to either of them now, or had he been so embarrassed to have been caught with his mouth on her body that he wasn't listening to anything at all?

Aiyla wished he would say something, anything, give her some sort of sign that he was okay, her concern for him built until she could feel it pressing a knot in her throat. Aiyla didn't look away; shame hadn't once occurred to her, not until she found herself wondering if it was shame that had Royce scurrying away from her. No- she decided quickly, no, they were friends. That didn't leave room for that; it had to be something else, Aiyla reasoned, clinging to the threads of rationality. She took the offered hand, "Thank you, Mr Van Doren," she replied politely, her attention torn to Royce.

Her mouth felt dry, and she stood up straighter, dusting sand away from her body; this version of Royce so unfamiliar had all of Aiyla's attention; she barely took note of his father beyond the realization that his arrival had shifted the entire mood of the evening. When Royce gave her name, only then did she turn with polite attention to the Van Doren patriarch, her head tilted curiously, what is he thinking? She thought, unable to pin the elder man down, but the little she did know, she knew it was likely not good. She noted the way he couldn't bring himself to look at her again, a small inhale that shuddered through her. Aiyla forced a polite smile, her hand reaching for his. She said, "Please, JR, Aiyla is fine," she paused, looking at Royce as his father asked about the previous full moon. She turned back to JR, "That would be me. You have a beautiful home," Aiyla chose her words carefully, picking the safest truths to say aloud.

Her smile fell more genuine at the mention of the Van Doren sisters; she had found an easy affection for Cece in particular, and to be told they found her helpful in any regard soothed some of the discomfort Aiyla had felt at JR's initial arrival. As a Fae adept at twisting words, she felt his wording odd. I suppose I owe you many gratitudes; it sounded like something a Faerie would say when they felt anything but it. Aiyla smiled brightly, shoving the thought aside in the hopes of not judging his father too harshly based on the little he had told her and his current perplexing, concerning behavior. She had longed to reach out to him, to take his hand, and offer him support for whatever turmoil he was potentially feeling at being caught in such an intimate position.

"He's a good son," Aiyla replied easily, "a wonderful man. Full moons are tricky for Banshees," she looked to Royce with affectionate concern. She volleyed her gaze back to Jr, the picture of sincere politeness despite the uncertainty that tangled inside of her, "It's my fault," Aiyla added easily.

"I knew there would be a better view away from the fire and I dragged him away," Aiyla didn't apologize, even if it may have sounded near one. Aiyla tucked loose strands of curls behind pointed ears, "Aiyla, JR," she corrected the use of her name with a dulcet tone and smile.

She took an unconscience step, leaning more towards where Royce stood; she looked to him instead of his father, "Royce," she said his name, nevermind it was also his fathers and many others before, her fingers delicately grazed his, if only for a moment, "you can find me after the fireworks," drive me home?, she thought quietly. This had been one of those times she longed to be able to read his mind; seeing how he seemed to shrink against his father's presence filled Aiyla with a mounting distrust for the eldest Van Doren; he was all smiles and pleasantries, and yet Royce acted as if he had been scolded. She did not want to be the reason for further discomfort, "It is deafening, and I'd hate for your stepmom to be more distraught," she turned back to the eldest man, "Royce must be a great comfort to his stepmom for you to come in search of him during the loudest part of the evening," Aiyla softened further only when she looked to Royce,her thoughts quiet and full of curious concern, it's okay, she thought for the benefit of them both perhaps. " I wouldn't dream of keeping him from that," Aiyla concluded gently, "I could portal you both back to her quickly if you'd like? It's a bit of a walk," Aiyla offered sincerely as she looked past the pan to peer down the beach, and even with her vision as it was, she could not see the fire.