valeriangrasu-blog

[valeriangrasu-blog]

mcjesty:

Perhaps others would have tutted the man, but Maks had seen broken men before and he knew without the shadow of a doubt he’d see them again. It didn’t feel right to look down his nose at them, when they so clearly needed compassion, though no kind words would heal Valerian. As the man began to shrink before him he relaxed, he forced himself to relax for Valerian’s sake. “Thank you, for your sacrifice. If there is anything I can offer you, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.” and he meant it with all sincerity, he would give the man land, women, income—whatever he may need, it was the least Maks could do.

     “sacrifice?” he echoes the word, soft, unsure. what has he lost, in comparison? his life remains in tact. that is more than many men can say. fingers shuffle ‘round the head of the cane again, knees protesting as he straightens slightly. there is nothing he needs, not really. the family estate is surely still in his name, a place to stay, land in his family’s name. “ - thank you, but. there is...little i need. that man can...can offer.”

[valeriangrasu-blog]

mcjesty:

The hand withdrew and there was no way to cover the rejection with anything but grace. “My apologies.” Valerian behaved like a man tortured and suddenly Maks bright eyes darkened. Peace felt so tangible at times but then it slipped through his fingers and that storm in his ribcage raged to desperate life. Anger bloomed in his veins and he clenched his jaw to keep at bay, hoping Valerian would not feel threatened by the display. “Ten years.” Was all he managed to say.

     “no - mine. i am. not able to - return, so well.” it is jumbled, shamed, as he often feels. men have endured worse than he and lived, been able to look others in the eye, been able to form words clearly in the presence of foreigners. eyes pick up how the other’s jaw clenches and the anger that seems to stir in his very posture. it has his own shoulders curving inward a touch - involuntarily making himself seem smaller. “ah. four.” it feels a pitiful number beside maksym’s, the others spent rotting in a cell. he knows not if he should be glad or angered at his connection to the russian throne keeping him alive. perhaps it would have been better to die brave than live a coward.

[valeriangrasu-blog]

mcjesty:

Truly he was struggling to read him, but he felt he should not intrude on someone else’s personal life if they were unwilling to open the door to begin with. But then the wind seemed to change in his favor and he turned to give the man his full attention. “Valerian Grasu.” He smiled, he did not know the name and so the man could not be a royal but that didn’t diminish him in anyway for Maks. The gratitude he felt at being in the presence of an ally was certainly shared and he moved forward, intending to shake Valerian’s hand. “It feels like an unnecessary inquiry this time Sir Grasu, but did you fight in the war?” The cane gave him away, but the fear made it apparent.

     and damn if he doesn’t flinch at the footfall, the way the other man advances. ally ally ally ally he echoes the word in his head, as if he thinks it enough times he will stop seeing enemy in the lines of other men’s hands, in the sound of feet against the floor, in the sound of voices accented in anything other than romanian or russian. like a startled child. fingers shift about the head of the cane and he does not make to shake the man’s hand. being touched is another action that makes mind spin backwards on itself. “i - yes.” until his foolishness had gotten him captured. “yourself?”

[valeriangrasu-blog]

mcjesty:

The discomfort filled the small space easily and he found himself longing to fidget, but he knew in the back of his mind that it would not serve him well to do so and he kept his hands locked at the wrist behind his back. He did not know the garden would lead to the greenhouse, it had seemed quite purposely out of the way of most of the established pathways but he had no desire to press the man for more details, accepting his response. “I’m Maksym, of Poland.” He bowed slightly, the man didn’t come off as a royal but Maks would not forgo his manners even if the man turned out to be a baker or caretaker, respect given was respect earned.

     gods above, it’s as if all civilization has been drawn out of him. teased away from under the layers of his skin and bone, so easily stripped down to nothing in the sight of one who seems to have no intent on harming him. valerian is perhaps too used to voices meaning questions, questions meaning torture when he refused to answer them. the country, though, has the nobleman straightening slightly. “valerian grasu, of romania,” it comes uncertain. he has kept to himself since his release as a symbol of peace from spain. “i am glad to be in the company of an ally.”

[valeriangrasu-blog]

mcjesty:

He nodded and tentatively entered the space, taking the aisle opposite the man as he was easily able to recognize the fear rolling off of him. So much time on the battlefield, he could practically smell it and it made him feel like a barbarian but perhaps his knowledge and experience would help him to put the man at ease. “Yes, which is why I am so fond of it. How did you stumble upon it, if you do not mind my inquiry?”

     there is such a contrast to how he used to great people. gone are wide smiles, jovial laughs, quips passed between parted lips in friendly banter. it is as if he is half the person he once was. a space of hollow eyes and shaking hands. his joints still ache in an eternal reminder of the rack, his knees still unsteady from being broken. the man seems friendly enough, though, and so valerian gives an effort to at least breathe more steadily. “i walk through the garden often. it led me here.”

[valeriangrasu-blog]

mcjesty:

It was not a comfort for him, to be surrounded by so many people he was unfamiliar with. The uneasy feeling in his stomach fluttered to life each time he had to bow and shake the hand of another. At the very least he was not meant to kiss any more rings, the large ruby on his own finger weighing heavy and polished with the lips of royals who were not quite MONARCHS. Maksym was no stranger to responsibility and he was confident in his ability to enact change for his country and his people, but he could not guess at the intentions of others and it was this that set his TEETH on edge. Just a few days past he’d discovered a small greenhouse full of delicate plants too sensitive to be left to their own devices, those that needed a particular and controlled climate to thrive; He felt a kinship with the leaves and flowers. To his surprise he found another within its confines on this day, his body tensing for the conversation he’d need effort to keep pleasant. “I see I am not the only one who has discovered this sanctuary.’ He allowed pleasantly, his voice soft and light.

     it is odd - valerian has heard of those confined by small spaces, by cupboards and tight quarters, but the opposite problem plagues him now. so long spent in a cell has made the tall ceilings of the palace press down upon him. open space, the soaring sky, the walls that tower above him, all are something too much for him to bear. legs ache, knees creaking as he makes his way between rows of delicate stem and leaf. the sky still arches above him through the glass but the close walls are a comfort for the man. weight is borne on the cane he holds tight as he turns at the sound of a sudden voice - eyes wary, shoulders tensed, heart suddenly pounding fast against his chest. such quick and involuntary reactions of his traitor of a body! the nobleman hesitates before clearing his throat to speak in quiet, crackling voice. “few realize it is here.”

[valeriangrasu-blog]

sercphiics:

With the majority of key players having arrived settled into Paris, negotiations had proceeded and the opinions and criticisms had made themselves known. Her brother had the most strenuous job of all – hosting such a large scale event. She hoped he would do well and promised to aid him whenever she could. At the present moment, Adelina had her lesson of dance to focus her energies on. Her etiquette and skill had to be kept up to practice just as highly as her intellectual studies. Her arms raised, she moved in time to the rows of strings that melodically formed a sweet tune, unaware of any other company besides her violinist.

     it is never his intention to skulk about in shadow, yet here again valerian finds himself lingering. the man had needed to rest for a moment - leg that was shattered and never allowed to heal properly aches him when he moves too long without a period of relaxation. it was never his nature to be still, but again he has been passed over in his repose. he knows full well his voice will disrupt such sweet melody and the girl’s dancing yet it feels wrong to remain here without her knowledge. as if he is intruding on some more private moment.      “is there to be a ball?” the nobleman questions in a tone barely loud enough to be caught over the tune of strings and her footfall upon the floor.

[valeriangrasu-blog]

lucien-tolbert:

The talks of a rebellion amongst the common people spread like fire. To say it put Lucien on edge was an understatement. It was his fault, really. He was the one to welcome enemies onto French soil in hopes of successful negotiations, but where were they now? For hours and hours each day, the countries do nothing but bicker. Lucien always put his people first, but now it seemed as though his mind was elsewhere. It seemed he couldn’t do anything right.

Lucien was lost in his train of thought, unaware that someone else had walked into the throne room. Refraining from speaking his thoughts, he simply looked up at his throne. This wasn’t the first time he questioned his leadership, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. With a sigh, he looked away before turning around. “How long have you been here?” If anyone saw him having reservations about his kingship, he was sure they’d find some way to exploit him because of it.

     he means not to intrude - it is why voice has stayed silent within his throat at sight of the king of france before him. perhaps valerian ought to bow. speak thanks for holding this peace summit that has so freed him of chain and rack ( spine shivers at thought of the damned device and he feels unsteady for a long moment ). but the man does neither - simply watches with tired eyes and uneven footing until the king speaks at last.      “ - not long, your highness.” voice is a soft thing. reedy and unsure in the air about them, cracked from periods of prolonged disuse punctuated with shouts and pleads. he has screamed until throat gave out several times over and it has left voice a craggy and uncertain thing. fitting, perhaps. “i meant no disturbance, these halls are. confusing.” a complex way of admitting he is quite lost among these walls.

[valeriangrasu-blog]

letitsing:

Show Tune Of The Day- 19th July- With You-Ghost: The Musical (Original Cast Recording)- 2011

You took my life with you Took my world with you

[valeriangrasu-blog]

royalalvx:

     alexander was drained. being those type of people who would feed of chaos and misery, the constant conversations of peace and honor bore him so nothing better than rolling the tobacco he had kept from the importations done by austria and rolled it himself. when alone, alex liked to write his darkest thoughts in paper between nature and that’s what he did, on the edge of the french palace’s garden, smoking his cigarette. this until he heard steps approaching him and his writing became an out loud vent,

    “what would be the use of peace in war? as long as there is different characters, there will always be war.”

     the walls of this place seem to press in on him - too bedecked in finery that was once familiar. perhaps the rooms are too large, too cavernous, too much like being swallowed into the stomach of some silk and velvet beast, to be comfortable any longer. not that being outside is much better. the breadth of the sky pins him to the ground with it’s vast light and unending clouds and stars and sun. but being out of doors is better than in. valerian pauses in his steps towards the garden when a voice calls out to him.      “i am no scholar, such questions are wasted on my ears.”

[valeriangrasu-blog]

hello friends! it’s mari again, back with a new kiddo! here’s some Fun ( Sad ) Facts about valerian grasu!

he’s a romanian nobleman who was raised primarily in russia, alongside the russian monarchs - yuri in particular.

vale and yuri were super close pretty much all their lives - valerian preferred spending time in russia over in romania, mostly because of how much he loved yuri.

fought in the war alongside yuri as a sort of right hand man. this worked out great until valerian decided he wouldn’t follow along with a plan that put yuri in danger. he went off plan at the last moment without telling anyone, which resulted in yuri being badly injured and valerian captured by spain and held as a prisoner of war.

he was told yuri was dead by the spanish and underwent several years of torture and being kept as a political prisoner.

was only just released as a ‘symbol of peace’ by spain. he’s pretty fucked up by all of this. tends to not trust anyone around him, is permanently injured and uses a cane, and always looks quite sad.

anyone who knew him before he was captured should so plot with me! vale was a brash, excitable, friendly sort before the war, and now he’s pretty much the opposite of all those things.

[valeriangrasu-blog]

     breath catches in his chest, heart thudding to a stand-still at the sight before him. fingers tighten ‘round the head of the cane valerian leans heavy on as blood drains from gaunt cheeks - for the face before him is one he would remember anywhere. the face of a dead man, a good man, all soft boyhood trained from solid set of brow and lips. it is the face of old friend - the face last seen twisted in some expression of anger and pain and disappointment. fingers shake and knuckles go white.      surely his mind is deceiving him. valerian had seen yuri die, had watched steed fall, had watched the prince vanish beneath the flanks of the beat, had screamed for the man until voice went silent within his throat. it is his tired eyes making the figure of old friend where it should not be. or else he is a spirit here to plague valerian for leading him to death. how he wants to draw close to the man - figment or spirit he may be - and drop to his knees, clutch at hand, beg forgiveness. but valerian does none of those things. instead of stands still as a deer who has spotted a hunter with shaking hands and stuttering heart. only after a long silent pause does he speak, and then only three words fall from chapped lips.      “ - i am sorry.” it comes wretched, shaking, and so very genuine. i am sorry. i am sorry.

@vasilyevichtsar

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Actual Puppy: Tom Payne                         ∟ for brinytassie