#int ft. cece

[jroycethethird]

setting: friday night at sunset drive in, echo acres

featuring: j. royce van doren iii & cecile van doren @cecevandoren

The sky above Lunar Cove darkened, a seasonably warm and clear night. Royce zipped down the streets in Goldie Hawn — his yellow ‘73 Alfa Romeo Giulia Spider Veloce 2000 — with her top off and looking stunning in the glow of the downtown streetlights. A flashy car for an often times flashy man, the kind he only ever brought out on humid summer days and nights when the sunlight shown off her hood exquisitely. Lately, though, his mind had been overcome with so much, that he hadn’t had much of a desire for joy rides in his pretentious vintage cars. The Catalyst. The Coven. The Council. All things that took so much of his time and attention, that kept him in some level of stress he hid behind carefully crafted and winsome smiles, a lofty attitude, or simply by locking himself away in his office at the back of the gallery. That futon offered a comfortable spot for many a restless afternoon when he just needed a little shut eye, if it would even come to him. But these lazy tactics just wouldn’t do much longer. After the grief of losing yet another coven member, Royce needed a far better respite than just an afternoon nap. And his other favored way of clearing up frustration was unavailable, at least until much later he figured. That left him with one other potential, one he thought may have been the most centering idea he’d had but regrettably didn’t come to first.

Swerving to a stop by the sidewalk, he’d leaned back in his seat and eyed the entrance of New Leaf, sniffing indignantly at the sight of it. He wasn’t here for new reading material, no. Most of his books he got in various languages from charming book stores on his visits abroad, or in estate sales and auctions as coveted first editions, all pressed tightly into bookcases back home. Novels didn’t entice him today, instead he was there for the blonde who had just barely ducked out the front door. The blonde who was so far above this ridiculous little retail job she stumbled into. “Cece,” he called, grabbing her attention with a wide grin and a single wave of his hand. No doubt she was looking for Bernie in one of the sleek black SUVs the family typically entrusted to staff, but was met instead by the sight of her brother in his ostentatious yellow convertible, prescription sunglasses hanging low on his nose as he beckoned her over. Hair wind blown and tousled while devoid of his usual three piece suit, Royce sat there in a crisp white button down, his jacket and vest neatly tucked away in the back, tie long forgotten. His sleeves were crumpled up to his elbows, collar undone and the top buttons on his shirt unfastened to reveal the scooped neck of a thin white undershirt beneath. If one squinted at him, they may have even noticed his shirt was untucked. He looked utterly unkempt by his standards, nothing like the J. Royce Van Doren III he presented in public, but Cece would see him then for who he was: Tripp, the Van Doren boy who liked running off on untold adventures or silly little inconsequential hijinks once the responsibility of life weighed too heavily on him, sloughing that stern and accountable persona in favor of something a little more relaxed.

By the time she drew near he was leaning over and pushing open the passenger’s door. “Blythe called,” he said, “She’s got a late meeting with the historical society, and the old man took off to Fuck Know’s Where for the night. Kath’s at the country club with that tennis instructor she has a shine for, God she’ll eat them alive. …I think that leaves you and I to our own devices. I figured I could steal you away for some proper brother-sister bonding time. Better than staying cooped up in ol’ Greenie all night.” He referred so affectionately to their aptly named emerald family home, Verdant Vale Hall, where a quiet night in alone with a book likely awaited Cecile. But by God, they could do better. It had been a while since he had really dedicated time to either of his younger sisters, or the family in general, and while he wouldn’t say it out loud, it was certainly weighing on Tripp. It dripped something blue in his heart, seeing Blythe scared to the point of fainting last month on the full moon and for him to have not been there right when it happened to shoulder the burden. He was learning quick that his globe trotting cowardly on the run ways were no good to anyone, especially the Van Doren women he loved so dearly. If only he could properly change.

��The Drive-In’s showing classics — Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly, Sinatra in High Society. Or was it Grace and Jimmy Stewart in Read Window? …Whatever, point is they’re showing old movies, and I thought it could be fun.” He reached into a small cooler on the floor before the passenger seat and pulled out a pint of Talenti’s Gelato Layers. Black Raspberry Vanilla Parfait, which he knew was a favorite of hers. “And I don’t come empty handed,” he grinned, but he withheld the ice cream as he motioned for her to sit. “C’mon, humor your old brother, won’t you? Before I’ve shuffled off this mortal coil.” Tripp sighed dramatically, before straightening in his seat. He had initially, when the tragedy first struck, thought about jet setting to Mykonos for a hedonistic respite, but he supposed there were great difficulties here in town that required him to stick around, and it wasn’t all too safe to just leave. Maybe this, a relaxed night with his darling little sister, could be just as nice a break from the chaotic noise, in spirit, as a Grecian getaway. Likely not the same, but he could try to enjoy himself more innocently.

[erenozturk]

option two.

A tragic end was no stranger to a Banshee, but this had hit particularly hard. The Peugeot was a beloved vehicle, one he’d had since before he first stumbled into town in the early 90’s. He could remember the first time they drove past the town sign, Zehra with her bare feet out the window while they listened to one of his many cassette mixes on the radio, as though they’d done the drive just yesterday. And he’d taken great care of her, kept up with her maintenance, was a strictly defensive driver, did his absolute best to keep her well and running. But she’d started acting up the past few days and when he’d finally took the car in to the local mechanic shop, he was met with dreary news. It would be time to give The Peugeot an actual retirement, unless he was able to pick up the bill to repair her and as it stood… Work was light. And Eren, the strict saver, wasn’t willing to dip into his savings for the car. Hell, he wouldn’t even do it to get himself out of the dreaded Fae Ball auction.

So here Eren was, rushing down the streets because he wasn’t one to pull out his wings very often, dashing on foot from place to place between his more mundane work. Serving papers for garnishment, light surveillance, on site research. Today was slow, aggravatingly so, and now he was bolting down the street in his usual unseasonable heavy layers, missing that old car and her janky AC which at least kept the sweat off his brow. And to make matters worse, today he was carrying a hefty pile of files and documents he picked up from an elderly client’s home, haphazardly stuffed into a messenger bag which was as old as the car had been and hanging on its last thread. A last thread that snapped at the most opportune moment.

Fanning out over the side walk, dozens upon dozens of estate and trustee paperwork, wills and deeds, and the like, a mess all around the Private Eye’s feet. Tipping his head back to stare at the blue sky above, he let out a deep sigh. “Just my luck,” he murmured, lowering to his knees as he began to quickly reclaim the scattered paperwork. He worked fast, grateful for the stagnant air not blowing the papers further away, not bothering to organize the papers as he tried to stuff them back into the broken folio he carried. He reached outwards with a gloved hand for one when he saw an elegant hand take a hold of the document before he could.

Out of habit, Eren recoiled from the sight of the other hand, even though he had the glove on. Since the sleepwalking incident on the Eclipse, he had seriously reverted backwards when it came to his discomfort from touch, shaking in his thick jacket for a flash of a moment before he remembered that he was safe and nothing had or would happen. “That’s fine, I don’t need help,” he said a little too quickly, taking the rest of the papers and shoving them back into his broken bag before he jumped up to his feet.

Shoving the bag under his arm and awkwardly holding it to his side, he lifted his eyes to meet her face and frowned. There were only a handful of things Eren enjoyed doing outside of work, one of which included reading, which often times brought him to New Leaf in search of something new to read. Which meant that Eren had crossed paths with Cecile Van Doren several times. Dipping his chin, he closed his eyes, dark lashes fanning against his cheek bones as he spoke. “Cecile, hello, it’s good to see you,” he said pragmatically, which was friendly for Eren, opening his eyes to give her a microscopic yet apologetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so brusque. It’s just been… one of those days, I’m afraid.” With a gloved hand, he reached up to brush away a drop of sweat sliding down his brow.

who. open @lunarcovestarters

option one.

where. town green, the gazebo

There were plenty of locations within the town of Lunar Cove that Cecile had claimed as a comfortable place to sit and read. The Daily Drip and the local library, just to name a few, but on a sunny day accompanied by a breeze? That practically begged Cece to bring a blanket with her to sit on the steps of the Gazebo and get lost in a few chapters.

However, today was exceptionally windy.

Like, she couldn't remember the last time her skirt whipped around her ankles in such an aggressive fashion. Not to mention her hair. It was a constant battle between being pushed to cover her eyes, or tugged behind her, as if the wind had invisible claws that intended to pull the strands from her scalp.

Originally Cece intended to ignore it. Once she was deep enough into her book, she would forget about the world around her. But that didn't happen. She was distracted. Actually, it was when she had read the same page four times and realize she hadn't retained any of the information that she was compelled to bother the person nearby. "Hello. I am so sorry for bothering but do you perhaps have a hair tie? Or a scarf? I seemed to have left the house unprepared today."

option two.

where. outside of bliss yoga

Cecile had learned a few years back that moving around did her body good, specifically stretching. She wasn't sure which one of the staff members at Verdant Vale suggested she try yoga, but she silently thanked them every time she left a class. it had taken a few months for her to work on her balance for most of the poses, but now she definitely could say she felt like she could hold her own in one of the intermediate classes.

Between the deep stretches and the calming music, it felt like one of the only places she could clear her mind and just exist. And after all the chaos surrounding the town in past months, it felt good to just focus on her breathing and nothing else.

The class ended too quickly for her liking, but she didn't linger. She rolled up the sea foam green mat she had brought with her, tucked it under her arm and said goodbye to the instructor as she followed many of the other students out of the building.

Once out of the humid studio, Cece began to walk towards where she would meet the family chauffeur to take her back home. But she paused when she saw the person in front of her drop something. She hadn't noticed if they had tripped or if it merely slipped out of their hand, but she didn't think as she began to bend down to help them. "Oh here, let me..." she began, reaching for what had fallen between them.

[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]

“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]

Tripp blinked at his sister, truly astounded. This sort of behavior he expected from Kathy, who was almost always so angry and so worked up it seemed. But Cece… she had always been the more demure of the Van Doren siblings, with a sweet and softer touch. Better than any of them, he reckoned. She was also fragile, as he’d been reminded by worried parents for all her life. You’re her big brother, it’s your job to protect her, they’d said. Don’t let her — or us — down. Tripp took this responsibility very seriously, thought her safety and health a most important part of keeping his dear baby sister well. “Are you serious?” He asked, just a tad dumbfounded by this display. His dark eyes swept over the others, leaning closer so as to keep this fight, or whatever, privately between them. If there was one thing Van Dorens hated, it was making a scene. “You want me to explain why it’s fair? Fine, I will — you are not like a lot of these other people. Falls, scrapes, harmless balls to unmentionable places,” he gave her a weary look while adjusting the ice pack on his lap, “These are easily walked away from for most. You could be more seriously injured. And while I’m perfectly aware that you know your body, I am your brother and the last thing that I can ever accept is if you are harmed under my watch.”

His anger mounted, and he fought the volume of his voice from rising, “I don’t think you’re weak! I don’t trust these other people to be careful with you!” He let out a sigh, placing his head in his hands. He… could see her point. Of course he could. But it didn’t really change his pigheaded perspective either, his desperation to keep her safe and sound, to not bear the brunt if something were to happen to her. “You are not a dead weight,” he said, voice low and tone somewhat softer. “But look at what happened out there, look —” he motioned with an arching hand towards the wet gymnasium, towards the sirens trying to dry up after being soaked on, and then towards himself, “— Look at what we did to them, and look at what was done to me. Natural weaknesses exploited and an injury — that’s why I don’t want you getting involved in some of this. Whether a meaningful or accidental thing,” because a part of Tripp hoped desperately that Aiyla didn’t intend to hurt him, though the odds seemed stacked against him, “something could happen that hurts you, and I can’t have that on my watch. I wouldn’t be able to forgive the person responsible for hurting you… and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” And this was supposed to be about bonding. How could he bond with anyone who hurt his most cherished sister, even if accidental? Tripp could be a very logical and reasonable person, but where his family was concerned… He could not be expected to act so fair. “Are you seriously upset about sitting out of dodgeball and trust falls, or am I missing a hidden layer? These aren’t worthwhile events, Cece, in fact these activities are incredibly beneath you.”

Cece could not help how far back her eyes rolled at her brother's comment. He was very clearly focused on the pain and current state of the dodgeball match that he was unable to detect the irritation in her voice. Or, he was just too dense to notice when Cece was upset. She had never been much of a tantrum child growing up, and even into adulthood had become what others might consider passive. But Cece did have feelings, and right now she was upset her brother didn't even seem to realize she was upset at him. When he tried to talk to her, to clearly complain about their teammates and the decisions they were making, Cece did not answer him. Instead just scowled deeper and tried to watch the match in front of her. And still, it seemed, no reaction from Tripp.

Hearing her brother use her full name, suddenly it felt as though he was the one who was annoyed. So, she had no problem leaning in so he could take notice of the way she spoke through gritted teeth. "Yes, for you perhaps. But it seems I will be seated out as long as you deem acceptable." Standing, she grabbed the gym bag she had brought with her, tore her baseball hat off her head and began to pack up her belongings. She needed to do something with her hands otherwise she might grab the ice pack he was cradling and throw it across the room. But at his question, the blonde let out a groan, unable to help the way she stomped her foot. "You! Please, explain to me how you think it is fair to continuously demand I not take part in these team activities. The trust falls, dodgeball? I'm actually appalled you allowed me to play baseball. I am twenty seven. Not seven!" Perhaps others might find it strange that Cece listened when her brother requested she stay out of the games, but when he wasn't just your brother but also a leader within the coven, it's not exactly easy to challenge him in the moment. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to sit here and watch you all out there? I already feels as though I'm dead weight, you demanding I sit out practically solidified that. I know my body better then anyone else, and I'm not as weak as you may think."

[jroycethethird]

Pain. That was all that was on the elder Van Doren’s mind as he struggled to make his way to the bench. It was undignified, the way he’d gotten out, and even more so the way he gently cupped himself as he hobbled over to the sidelines where a bench and Cecile Van Doren, as well as any other witches who were out now waited, trying to stay dry from the sprinklers which had gone off and began dousing the sirens on the court. He didn’t care about the drama unfolding behind him — at least, not outwardly — even as he honed in on the angry thoughts of those being soaked through. No, he was much too busy focused on the pain in his groin, grateful to be given an ice pack as he carefully settled into a spot beside Cece. “You have no idea,” he said in a hoarse voice as he rested the pack over his injury. Dark eyes seeking out the one who put him there like that, he scowled as he realized he couldn’t even enjoy how incredible she looked all fiery and competitive. Fucking JR, he thought, glancing away from the Fae Queen before she could notice his eyes on her.

He wasn’t paying his sister any attention. Instead he was focusing on the game, on the thoughts on his teammates’ minds, the ridiculous ideas they had. Electrokinesis… on a group of people who were sopping wet? “Can you believe how empty headed some folks are?” He hissed at his sister, among other comments about the hopeless game, all of which were going unanswered though he hadn’t noticed. Despite their “clever strategy,” they lost, and this somehow irritated him more. Before he could even think to say anything, Cece was turning to him and speaking up in a tone which veered rather hysterically on anger. Why the hell was she mad? He blinked at her words, confused. “Well there are more competitions to be had, Cecile,” he full named her purely out of irritation. “What has gotten into you?” He asked in a low hum, brow furrowed. His nicer way of asking what her problem was, because really he couldn’t figure it out. She was comfortably seated there while he got a fast ball to the nuts, surely she had nothing to complain about.

Who. Cecile Van Doren & Royce Van Doren III @jroycethethird Where. The Rec Center. When. Afternoon, post dodgeball. Sunday the 14th.

Let's be clear, Cece loved her brother. What she didn't love was that sometimes he was so overprotective he could be just as bad as their parents. Cece didn't like her autonomy to be taken away. It happened enough as a child and into her teens. Hell it was still happening with her parents, she didn't want that from her brother. So when he hobbled over to her after a rather aggressive dodgeball to his sensitive parts, ice pack in hand, she didn't say more than a quick, "that looked like it hurt." And if Tripp was paying attention, he'd notice the irritation that laced the middle Van Doren's voice. Shifting her body so her back was slightly towards him, Cece propped her chin on her hand as she continued to watch the game. Promptly ignoring her dear brother.

When the game finally ended and the Fae came out the victors, Cece couldn't help but send a comment to her brother a little sharply. "Good, at least now we all have to sit out of the rest of the games."