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“I don’t want to go back home to Canada.”

I want to stay here close to Quentin. I want to stay in this country.

He laughed again and looked at the drawing he did.

“What would you like to name our little sheep friend here?”

“ Why are you here if it isn’t very nice? Why don’t you go somewhere else? “ Slowly, he tilted his head to the side. Why would someone stay here if they were so sad? It didn’t make any sense. Maybe the man was trapped in some way, like those on their different planets.

“ Oh! “ Prince smiled brightly as he stared down at the drawning, “ It’s perfect! I’ve never seen a better one! “

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”addictedtouselesswords:

“ Well, that’s not very nice of them. Why don’t they understand that not everyone learns the same, “ Just as everyone saw the stars different at night, wouldn’t people also see what they learned different. Just how much had adults really forgot?

“ I’m glad we’re friends! “ A bright grin, as bright as the sun, formed on the young boy’s face at the reassurance that the two of them could be friends, “ Do you know how to draw sheep? “

“I agree.  It’s not very nice of them.  This school isn’t very nice.”

Shreve blamed Harvard in part for what happened to Quentin.  Shreve blamed the South, the Compsons, and he also blamed Harvard.

The thought process was quickly deterred by the next question.  Another one that made him smile.

“As a matter of fact I do.”

Shreve dug out a notebook from his bag and a fountain pen from another part of it.

“I hope it’s ok if the ink is green.”

He flipped through pages upon pages about the Sutpens and opened to a blank one at last.  And he began to draw the sheep.  He outlined the curly wool of the creature, its ears, its hooves.  And at the end he gave it a pair of two dark eyes, big and full of wonder.

“How’s this?”

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“Lucy?” At first he didn’t expect to see her doing...well he wasn’t entirely sure his tone one of concern and shock both.  And then, the concern amplified.

“Lucy!” He said with more urgency.

Shreve long ago accepted the Shakespearean assertion that there were indeed more things to Heaven and Earth than fathomed by philosophy, especially the grounded, yet pretentious philosophy so ubiquitous at the college.  He had accepted and even embraced Lucy’s job and practice and even viewed it as a way to find him again.  To find Quentin.

And the more he looked the more he found that Massachusetts, still young as far as empires can be concerned, and it was in many ways, an empire, boasted its own host of spirits and history and skeletons.  And so such things became part of the norm.

But this was not part of the norm.  This was not a ghost.  This was---well he certainly wasn’t sure what it was.

He searched her face and adjusted his glasses.

“Christ Lucy! What-What the hell? Literally? Literally hell?”

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It was not widely known outside of her close circles of friendship that gods of war were not to be introduced to Lucy. While her affinity for beings of death would suggest otherwise she did not view war in that purview. Death was one day of life, a fractional moment that should not overshadow what you did in life. War though, war would glorify it. War would make rubies of blood and call the echoes of screaming men and women battle hymns to be rejoiced over.

The gods of war spoke in those same tones. They were not moved easily by words, which were hardly considered action in their minds. Which, given her propensity to talk her way through all her troubles, was frustrating beyond reason. She’d learned to talk to monsters in their own languages, whether it be flattery or silence, gossip or favors. And with the gods of war she learned violence. 

Currently, she was imparting a bit of law to be remembered - namely that their influence was not desired in the streets of her city and if they wanted to stay they would utilize it in more constructive ways. Of course, to do it she had to make them listen and to do that she’d driven a gold plated letter opener through their hand and buried it into her wooden table beneath. 

And then the door opened and she was left, mouth agape, with no good explanation for the situation.

“Hey there, Shreve.”

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Shreve laughed warmly.

“I’d love to be your friend!” He couldn’t hide the grin. 

“They’re scary because they’re so dominating and full of rules and lessons and the only right way to learn something is their way.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t believe that. Do you?”

“ Nope! “ Mostly because he didn’t have a family to need help finding. That and the confusion and being lost was a part of the fun. He wanted to explore more and take it all in. The world was so weird and crazy and he wanted to get to see as much of it as possible.

“ Why do the professors scare you? “ Perhaps they were very weird grown ups like all of the ones Prince had met over his travels. Although some of them hadn’t scared the Little Prince. They were just weird and he knew they wouldn’t be good for being friends.

“ Do you want to be friends? “

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Shreve’s smile only broadened at the boy’s question.

‘Where are you going sister?’ He heard in the back of his mind.

“My name is Shreve. It’s a silly name, I know.” He looked at the boy. “Do you need help finding your family? The campus isn’t very fun or safe. Lots of scary professors and students. The professors scare me the most.”

They did honestly scare Shreve.

The Little Prince was fairly sure that he liked this weather better than the desert. It was awfully cold. But there were more people around. Perhaps people were attracted to the colder weather. He would have to remember that for later. For now - he was still quite alone. 

Except for the man stepping closer to him and calling out. Not quite an adult, Prince realized, so maybe he wouldn’t be too strange. Adults were just so odd.

“ What’s your name? “ Not an answer to the question at all.

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Starter for @addictedtouselesswords

Winter had come again and Shreve breathed deeply into the scarf wrapped tightly around  his face, his glasses peering out over the edge.  He didn’t go back to school but he stayed in Massachusetts. It was a long story.

And then he saw the boy.  His mind shifted quickly to Quentin and the small children that seemed to follow him around.  He laughed a bit at the thought, contemplating what Quentin would do if he were there.  Really there.  Physically there.

But the boy was alone and Shreve, as a young man with common sense moved toward him.

“Hey, kiddo.” He didn’t call out too loudly, which was indeed a feat for him. “Are you lost?”

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bookwormprinccss:

“It’s still better than Hobart. There are poor children going around with an old mans name.” She laughed.

“He was very skinny at birth. But he eats a lot so he’s getting fatter everyday.”

“I’m sure there’s someone out there who’s in a tight spot and needs someone to care for their child like their own.” Belle sighed

“Oh what an awful name.” Shreve laughed and shook his head. “No one’s as creative as the Southerners though. I have a whole genealogy written if you want to see some of those.” 

His eyes lit up and he shrugged.

“I’m sure it’ll work out in my favor some day.”

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Useless Details Ask Meme I

Send one of the following symbols to find out more about my muse!

Their phone:

★ what kind of phone do they have? ☆ what is their phone’s background? ✪ their standard ringtone? ❉ do they have any pictures on their phone? ✯ what do their texts look like? do they use emojis often? what kind? ✦ the first five names on their contacts list? ⍟ any games on their phone? what kind? how often do they play? ✹ five - ten songs on their iPod/phone?

Their home:

♈ a description of their home - apartment building or detached house? how many rooms are there? colours of their walls? any decorations? ♉ what are their neighbours like? their relationship to them? ♊ what kind of mail do they get (except for bills)? have they subscribed to any magazines/newspapers? ♋ do they read any newspapers/magazines? what kind? what topics are they interested in? do they flip forward to the cartoon page first? ♌ how do they drink their coffee/tea? ♍ any pictures on their walls? what kind/of who? ♎ is their closet tidy or are the clothes just being thrown inside or lying on the floor? ♒ their cleaning routine - laundry/dishes/cleaning the rooms

Digging deeper:

🌷 what do they have in their wallet? ꕥ what’s usually in their trouser/jacket pockets or purse? ☘ how many keys do they have? for what? do they have any key pendants? 🍀 what kind of jewellery are they wearing? what’s their favourite peace? 🌻 what do their bedsheets look like? colour? patterns? 🌹 what’s the colour of your muse’s underwear right now?

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“Absolutely! And any  name is better than Shrevlin. I don’t know what my parents were thinking”

Shreve reached for the baby and grinned.

“I was probably a pretty calm baby. I know I was a really fat one! Clearly nothing changed.”

He smiled and bounced the child a bit.

“Quentin and I joked we’d find a way to have kids. Maybe I will. Who knows?”

“He’s got my eyes, definitely. I named him François Gervais. Beautiful name, isn’t it?”

Belle was practically glowing with happiness over her tiny son, barely taking her eyes off the little snoring bundle in her arms.

“You wanna hold him? He’s a heavy sleeper and doesn’t really cry even when he’s awake.”

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“Baby!”

Shreve beamed.  He was good with kids.  An only child, himself, he always wanted siblings, even after the horror stories Quentin had told about his upbringing.

“Hi there!” He grinned at the small creature and looked up at Belle.

“Looks just like you. I mean like how a baby could, but you know what I mean.”

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“Have you met my baby son yet? He’s just the most perfect little boy in the entire world.”

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“The motivation for making movies is that people actually see them.” - XAVIER DOLAN

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The person I reblogged this from is someone I enjoy seeing on my dashboard.

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Reblog this if you willing to RP with Male Muns that RP Female characters.

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continuation for @bookwormprinccss

Shreve saw a friend in Belle.  Always had. And he allowed himself to collapse on her shoulder.

“I could’ve stopped it.  I could’ve been home just ten minutes sooner.”

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YOU GUYS SHOULD HARASS SHREVE

THAT IS ALL