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me, sighing and adding effie : I GUESS!!!

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It's that famous Grey Warden charm.

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Spartacus: Vengeance- S2E08 | Balance BONUS:

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MULTIMUSE MEME: Send a " ⭐ " and I will list muses I would be interested in throwing at yours, or potential muse combinations if you are also a multi. If you like any of the suggested combinations, you are welcome to come plot or start interactions with them.

If you can't see / use the symbol for any reason, send " star! " instead. If you are a multi and you want to see which muses I would be interested in throwing against a specific muse of yours, send ⭐+ that muses name.

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The Rings of Power Cast Watchlist ➤ Theme: 📜 Period/Historical 📜 Spartacus (2010-2013) created by Steven S. DeKnight Cynthia Addai-Robinson as Naevia

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adding :

davrin – dragon age : the veilguard

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warden aria … are you … are you free tomorrow night please …

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happy weekend y’all got shouted out in the sibling group chat

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THERE TWITCHES AN AMUSEMENT AT THE CORNERS OF ARIA'S EYES AS SHE REGARDS THE NYMPH THAT SHE DOES NOT BOTHER TO HIDE. the path of her life always paved the way for plenty of assumptions about her, for better or worse, and of all those she's heard, eurydice's seems about as innocent as they come, utterly unoffensive in its gentle skip in logic – at least, by the former warrior's standards. something about the delivery makes clear that, however wry the remark may be, there's a hesitation about her that could easily be either curiosity or fear. familiar enough a reaction to her, aria supposes. though born human, she has hardly lived like one for quite some time, except perhaps for the deep well of feeling within her, one which life and experience taught her not to summarily reject. what joy she takes in simplicity, in foraging through her woods each day and tending to her plants and drawing on the magic that lingers from the mouth of the underworld not far away.

" not clairvoyant, no, " she answers, glancing sidelong at eurydice as she bends and tests the leaves of a chickweed grove at her feet before beginning her harvest. " simply observant, or so I like to think after all these years. you seem troubled. and rarely does one linger this close to the mouth of the underworld without reason. " she pauses, expelling a breath that sounds half a laugh, as though lightly scoffing at her own words. " I am the exception, of course, but whatever wisdom I possess I fear has great limits. "

for the weight of her past, of all her deeds, there is something almost playful about the witch's manner, even as she moves through her tasks with ease, half an eye always on the nymph as she transitions from pulling chickweed to digging in the soil for roots, apparently unbothered by the dirt beneath her nails and upon her trousers. for a moment, she falls quiet in concentration as she frees one from the earth and places it in her basket before lifting a hand to wipe her brow. " I do wonder what sorts of witches upon whom you've stumbled. I assure you, I've no intention to fold you into anything. but I fear I do know what it is, to lose one's self for a time in the heart and ambitions of another. I would trade stories with you, if you would trust me enough to share a venison stew with me. " she offers a smile, then, which brings such warmth to her face that she barely realizes, and rises to her feet, hanging her basket off one arm. " my cottage isn't far and you seem as weary as you are wary, dear traveler. let me do you a kindness, won't you? "

forest witch aria for eurydice : ❛ some things can't be torn apart no matter how hard you try to do so. ❜

secure under the shade of trees, she prefers these places where she is closer to her first home than roaming around the empty roads. even when she knows this would be no place to stay, that this isn't the place to grow roots, that this is just another road stop before she'd continue on. all the valleys speak to her, a language she thought she couldn't hear anymore when she escaped from the underground and fought her way back out. she thought this connection would be dead for good, but once she was travelling through the forests and planes she could find it slowly came back to life. certainly not the way it used to be yet, not the easy extension from her body's movement like she could just fade or be peeled from the greenery and its lush tapestry, but she could sense it slowly coming back to her in the inner most part of her. how to bring it to the tips of her fingertips, to make it dance with her again? how to be revived beyond revival, not clammy and cold where her throat is soft and thin or where the skin is a bronze shadow over her bones. how to be one with what surrounds her again - that's the question of questions.

she is pondering the issue as she sits in the grass, the day slowly coming to its end and its lights a bleak spec of gray amidst the thick carpet of trees above her head, when she finds that she is not alone. other nymphs have passed her by, looked at her strangely or with keen interest ( they are curious by nature ) but she can feel them in her periphery before they are visible in the scenery. this is different though, this is someone human and yet not, someone who reminds her of those touched by either divinity or anything that lies beyond mortal dealings. she turns her head towards the noise then, seeing a woman much taller than her and of more impressive stature than most of the workers she has seen underground as well. this woman is fiercely alive though - and she seems to be a witch.

" ah, a mind reader is what you are? clairvoyant and a witch, i haven't met too many of your kind. the last one to bewitch me folded me into him, " she replies to the strange remark, though not so strange if the woman is a witch after all. god knows what she can do, possibly more than eurydice ever could, and that is remarkable in itself. pulling her legs under her, she changes into a crouch and watches on as the woman bustles around the forest with evident awareness of her surroundings. how interesting, to see someone so at home in their skin and so present in their place in this world. " i always wonder if it is palpable on me - the one or the other. if i am not my own person. do you know how it feels like? you sound like you do. "

╰ it's okay to not be okay, accepting.

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the reformatory.

dialogue prompts from the reformatory by tananarive due.

why'd you do a fool thing like that?

don't run barefoot.

school is holier than church.

everyone knowing your name isn't always a blessing.

i can speak for myself.

what's got into you?

you little shit.

you pushed me first.

what would ____ have done?

not all stories are suited for the ears of children.

you can only trust explosive secrets with three people, maybe four.

we should have run away when we had the chance.

you talk too damn much.

we'll get there faster if we cut through the woods.

sometimes life throws you a curveball, and you end up in places you never expected.

are the stories true?

i've never seen a more superstitious place.

there's no such thing as ghosts. that's an absolute fact.

evil is never plain to the eye.

stop fretting. just makes it worse.

sometimes the only justice is a hot meal and a bed to sleep in.

you know how to cook?

it could've been last week, for how well i remember it.

you think i don't know an evil eye when i see one?

if you're dead, stay dead.

you're scared of your shadow. always jumping.

who is it? who locked the door?

none of you can take a joke.

you seem more tired than usual.

you can talk sense when you want to.

men do evil every day and call it 'doing their job'.

i've heard all i can stand.

this is only a season, and it will pass. no matter what happens.

you don't bother me, i won't bother you.

you talk too damn much.

say you're sorry. put it behind you.

there's more ahead for you than this.

this isn't everything. there's more than this.

stories are dangerous.

if i needed you to, you'd cover for me?

no one stays nice. best to remember it.

go on. ask me what i know.

i wish i could say i had good news.

get a good cry out if you want.

you're not as smart about the world as you think you are.

no good talk starts at a bar.

mama used to say that unaired feelings ate you up inside.

i'm sorry. i've got no right to blame you.

don't tell your business on the phone.

hush that damn foolishness.

don't you be sick in my truck.

sometimes the worst thing happens. usually, in fact.

how do you believe in god, with all the bad things?

this whole world is a lie, the bad things and the good things.

you've got an answer for everything, don't you?

it's like you can see every thought in my head.

what did i ever do to you?

don't talk about my parents.

don't talk like you know anything about me.

everybody won't see. but you might.

telling the truth always breaks the peace.

one thing i've learned: everything seems fine, until it ain't. and then we come to see it wasn't ever fine.

i was never allowed to have nicknames.

____ made me feel like i mattered.

be strong. like _____. can you do that?

it'll be alright, as long as you tell the truth.

all a man has in the world is his name. your name outlives you.

i tried to tell you, didn't i?

you're so dumb. not the dumbest i've ever seen, but pretty damn close.

you don't get to ask about ____.

if you see me run, follow behind. no matter what.

please let me do something to help.

they wear you down one wrong at a time.

we should use a code to talk about it.

never give up a chance to laugh.

i'm beyond your help.

being dead isn't so bad.

you thought i didn't know?

does anyone remember you?

you need me, just like i need you.

constant worry steals everything from you.

i don't like strangers in my house.

you need a place to stay, and i have a spare room.

sometimes we say a thing to try to believe it.

i don't know what game you're playing, but it's a dangerous one.

the secret to war is the sacrifices friends make for each other.

we don't all sit around in a clubhouse. is that what you think?

let it out. but when you're done crying, we need to go over the plan.

wait a minute. just slow down.

we're no better than them.

some mistakes you don't come back from.

everything is a trick with you.

i don't want to kill anybody. not even ____.

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FOR AS WELL AS HER FINE CLOTHING SUITS HER, FREYA APPEARS JUST AS AT HOME IN FRESH TROUSERS AND A SIMPLE BLOUSE. on the sea, despite the fact that it's a tumultuous and unpredictable creature, a peace engulfs her, a sense of control over her life in a place where only nature rules. perhaps it is the simple fact that it was here that she'd finally made her own first decisions, that she'd seized hold of her fate and slipped from beneath the weight of her mother and father's names. since then, she has forged her own future from the rubble of one she'd destroyed, and she'd never been anything but glad of it, despite what she'd lost to get there. in this moment, she wonders if that is something @azarathian would understand – or perhaps would, someday.

" I suppose I, too, would classify a ship as a temple, although admittedly for different reasons. I do not mean to sound ... perhaps sacrilegious to you, I assure you, but I worship nothing with quite so much reverence as the sea and the maverick here – " she reaches a hand back to run affectionately along a beam in her ship's hull, a distant and fond smile curing the edges her of her mouth. " – she is the closest thing to a church possible on these waves. my own floating chapel, you could say. " her gaze returns to the princess then, tilting just the slightest centimeter to the side as she observes, curious, her gaze slightly soft across the distance between them.

had this woman been locked even further away from the world than they'd kept freya herself, apart from anything real?

" you are kind, highness. even now, I am no expert. I fear I learn more about it every day. I was not raised to this, but only the sea first spoke to my heart. so I keep learning. " the captain sips from her own tea, studying her brother's affianced as carefully as the other woman watches her, although nothing about her gaze is harsh or judgmental. if anything, she sees a great deal of herself in raven – and to that end, feels uncomfortably like she's delivering the princess in chains. at the very least, she knows her brother is nothing like her own late spouse. " you're a curious one, aren't you? that's good, especially in a world that doesn't often encourage it in the fairer sex. studied is one word, I suppose, though I'm certain they would take offense to the term. the sirens of the deep are as intelligent as we, you see, but ... more dangerous, at least on their own without cannons and blade to aid them. they eat hearts. preferably men, but we'll do, in a pinch. be cautious, although generally speaking, my crew and guests are granted safe passage. " she smiles again over the rim of her teacup, warm, more comforting than anything. " as for storms, I have had to weather many, as have my crew. they're common, but that does not make them less dangerous. I do mean it when I tell you that you did well. you will find, I think, that I rarely say anything not in earnest. "

freya leans back in her seat, her brow furrowing just slightly, raven's words still prickling at the back of her mind, and after a moment, she adds, " this is really the first time you've seen the sea? if I may as, was it your decision or were you ... kept contained ? "

the sea feels both violent and serene for the soul - feeling princess: the image of unbelonging serenity only with an attendant to accompany her.    the sky poured cold laments,    beside the danger of it all, it evokes a peaceful feeling on the empath to look beyond the stern: deep darkness, peaceful death.    she never felt a connection to the sea,    but she finds it infinitely fascinating now.    it might also be the captain’s fault,    it’s mesmerizing to see her reigns of a wooden beast,    and it proves to be a great distraction for the upcoming dread of the fate sealed in diplomatic letters.    she isn’t sure what crumbles her breathing more,    the death of her old life or her suspicions of her father’s intentions, but she's hoping to escape the sorrows at least after the rush of adrenaline of today's events.

raven receives the drink and believes it an offer of gratefulness.    the captain will not know this,    but as her prized delivery  remains in this ship,    both misfortune and salvation will plague her: suffering and healing at once,    the princess possesses ties beyond humanity that she’s under oath not to disclose,    save it ruin her prospects of marriage,    but she refuses to let freya’s diligent work to ensure her own safety unreciprocated.    it had been a blur then,    when she extended herself downward by rope and lost one of her azure shawls to the wind.    but as secluded and gentle the royal creature seems,    she’s never one to stray from danger on behalf of another,    although it does embarrass her to know it was completely unnecessary.    write that down as another thing she doesn’t know: it’s what frustrates her the most about change,    not reigning the knowledge to forge her own destiny.    

‘ none,    this is the first time i have ever been in one,    the first time i have seen the sea.    but i find a ship is not unlike a temple,    there is… some need of collaboration… perhaps even an expectation of it.    and you command it well,    ’ no smiles,    she hides behind her cup,    dark and attentive eyes never leaving the mystery of the sea - tamer before her.    she speaks nothing of the meditative numbness that allows her to avoid vomiting through the water’s turbulence: she doesn’t mind being thought of as frail,    as long as she can be useful through the perils that still await them.     ‘  these creatures,    that you should not tell me about,    have you studied them    ?    ’ the princess can’t resist the idea of knowledge,    specially in the form of captain - made binnacles.   through the calm,    unchanged solemnity of her face,     some childlike inquisitiveness steeps in.   ‘ i have heard many harrowing tales of the sea,    have you ever lived through one    ?    ’

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@cordoliae as impa : [ STAY ]: sender decides to stay by the receiver's bedside after learning that they're sick. [ feat. sarita singh ]

SARITA KNOWS SHE PRIMARILY HATES SICKNESS FOR BEING SOMETHING SHE SIMPLY CANNOT CONTROL. not that she by default despises absolutely anything over which she has little agency – the world moves quickly and everything changes, sometimes in the blink of an eye, she knows – but rather it's the lack of control over her own body that she can barely stomach, even though she finds the occasional fever strangely cleansing. the issue isn't helped by the fact that illness leaves her vulnerable. perhaps she's avoided drowning in her childhood indoctrination to the same degree as her dear brother, but she could not escape entirely unscathed. any concept of a blind spot leaves her nervous and borderline paranoid, which doesn't pair well with the mild delusions and cold sweat.

she almost thinks impa's a hallucination when she finds her at her bedside, but she knows she's not quite that far gone.

despite knowing she must be burning up, sarita still feels chilled beneath layers of blankets, though even the sight of the other woman warms her a bit more than she suspects anything else could now. still, she knows she must be ashen, clammy to the touch, her skin sallow and dull. while she is in no way a particularly vain woman, it isn't an ideal circumstance under which to be seen by one's lover. and for as strange as it may seem for somebody like her, she finds she does care what impa sees when she looks at her. even knowing she does not have to look her best to be lovely in the other woman's eyes does not stop her from wanting to be both, if she can. impa is an ethereal thing, unlike any woman she's ever been with, ever known, such violence intertwined with such tenderness. sarita needs her to consider her strong, even as they both know how easily she surrenders to her. but maybe the strength is to highlight that dichotomy.

" he let you in, didn't he. " sarita's voice rasps slightly with disuse as she speaks. " damn him. " if she wants to sound irritated, she doesn't quite manage it. while she'd like to blame it on the fact she feels so physically weak, she knows perfectly well that, no matter how she looks, how she's feeling, she wouldn't have wanted tris to turn impa away. even if she would have rather she didn't see her this way. blindly, she feels for the other woman's hand, squeezing gently, smiling gently despite the cold sweat shimmering on her brow. " I look like hell. I'm sure he's having a good laugh. how did you know to come? "

caring for the sick prompts. accepting.

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AS WELL AS FREYA KNOWS HIM, IT ISN'T DIFFICULT FOR HER TO SEE THE CONCERN IN ZORO. by nature, he is stoic, more stoic than she – although she often willfully softens her own stoicism in circumstances it gains her an advantage. zoro, on the other hand, is ever the same, every steady in a way that calms her, even in his frustration and occasional anger. especially since seizing her own fate in her hands, freya has always been unshakable. still, she remains ever grateful for the support he provides, everything he is to her, everything he has somehow become throughout their acquaintance. somehow, perhaps when she wasn't fully paying attention, he became the dearest person to her heart. frankly, she would not have it any other way. how fate has favored her, to provide her a companion to whom she feels so intrinsically bound, who soothes her soul and feels her absence so deeply. what greater expression of love could there be? certainly no lover she's ever had could compare to the closeness she feels to her dearest friend.

steeling herself against the pain, she grits her teeth briefly as she cranes her neck forward, just enough to allow him to tilt water into her mouth. it isn't until it washes over her tongue that she realizes how thirsty she truly is, but she hadn't the energy – nor the range of motion – to chase the cup when it tilts away again. with a soft sigh, she tilts her head back into the pillow behind her. somehow, she manages not to wince when she chuckles hoarsely in response. ever the dry wit, her zoro. and whatever would she do without that in her life, to cheer her?

" do not be indecorous just because I am weakened, zoro. I am still a privateer, not a pirate. you have not pulled me so far yet as to compel me to turn in my commission. " her good-natured smile turns to a wince for a couple of beats as she shifts such that it sends a shiver of pain up her spine, until she manages to relax again. they both know it is no moral compunction that keeps her from calling herself a pirate. rather, her privateer commission comes from her father, some remaining admission of the peril of his poor choices, evidence of his willingness to practically sell his children in service of his aims, despite any love he may or may not otherwise have for them. it was in bits and pieces that she's shared it with him, first until she knew she could trust, then because she could only handle a step of her pain at a time.

his question prompts another soft laugh which makes her flinch ever so slightly. surely he knows the answer already, given her wound's severity, but she appreciates it regardless. " utterly wretched, I'm afraid. much better, for your presence, though. were you not here when I woke, I worry I would have assumed myself dead. anymore I assume you cannot die, and so alas, I know I live to fight another day. " her fingers tighten gently around his hand, squeezing as tightly as she can, despite her utter lack of strength in her state. the warmth of his palm helps her to relax further into the cot beneath her and she holds onto it as though it's the only anchor. she softens, then, as earnest as he, sharing in that gentleness they possess only when together. " I am going to recover, zoro. come, relax your shoulders, you've not lost me. I would certainly appreciate more water, though. "

chopper is someone zoro trusts implicitly, someone he'd let operate on himself with nothing to numb him and all his faculties somewhat present, so he knows their medic is the best to take care of freya before she'd have to bite the dust - which won't ever happen on zoro's watch, that is a fact. it's also the only reason he doesn't feel completely untethered now, having seen members of the strawhats just as close to the brink as freya was and brought back to vitality all through their doctor's amazing work and the stern belief in good rest ( though luffy and zoro himself have pushed the idea of rest more than they ever indulged in it, too prone to action than to lie around, usually to their own detriment. ) the little reindeer's been fussing and bustling around his doctor's cabin ever since he stabilised freya and stopped the bleeding, taking care of her wounds and making sure she's not concussed or anything like that.

the latest of his endeavours was hitting zoro in the shoulder to at least get up and eat something, but zoro refuses to move from his spot on the wooden stool next to the cot, ignoring everything while he either naps or stares down at freya's unconscious body and her smooth face. sanji's come down to force some food onto him, which zoro wolfed down before handing back the plate, and usopp and luffy have checked in as well so they could tell freya's crew. even nami came around, half as mad as he expected her to be. it reminds zoro again, that he has good friends, and that he should be a good friend as well. it's the last thought he has before he's nodding off himself, all the adrenaline and energy finally leaving his body for good after tony's promised him freya just needed a day or two to rest before she'd be around again - and that the going merry isn't going anywhere until they made sure their patient is fine to leave for her own ship again.

he is already awake when there is movement close to his arm, then by his hands, and his eyes refocus on freya where before he has been staring off into the middle distance of the second morning of being down here. his neck and back are killing him, truly, but he couldn't care less when he finds her hand grasping for some part of him and he first lets her hold onto his underarm before he exchanges it with his actual hand ( not that he'd ever tell anyone about how quick he is with that, it's solely between freya and him. ) " all paid, fairweather. not a berry left, " he tells her, voice rough from disuse but he can't help the edge of disbelieving laughter scratching his throat. it is not quite there yet, too deep into his relief to even feel or show any other emotion, but he at least lets the smile pass over the corner of his mouth before he moves his shoulders and flexes one of his arms to get her a cup of water left on chopper's small work desk. " got that for you. tony said to drink it slowly or you might not be able to swallow it. don't move too much yet. " only feeling his body losing up when he's made sure freya's got some water down her throat and doesn't look as pale as she did the past two days. " you've been out for a while. thought you didn't even want to be a pirate anymore. " then, a morsel of earnestness just her presence gets out of him alone, something not cut up or spiked around the edges. " how are you feeling? "

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DESPITE HIS TENDENCY TO KEEP TO HIMSELF, EZRA DOES MANAGE TO INTERACT WITH THE WORLD SOMEWHAT REGULARLY. more than anything, he views himself as a bit of an observer, lingering on the periphery of everything else like some sort of documentarian, bearing witness to the lives of others from the outside. he wants to engage, sometimes – of course he does – but most of the time, he isn't sure where to start. so he is content to watch. to experience in a quieter and gentler way than the rest of his family, even his gentle father. he supposes these outings of his are part of that, part of his role as witness, and he doesn't expect to step out of that today. it's when he sees sydney standing at the bookshelf with her back to him, eyes fixed upon a point far above her, that he realizes he won't only be observing today.

a warmth fills his chest that, for a brief moment, makes him feel less alone.

ezra knows he's quiet for his size, but he still doesn't really mean to sneak up on her or alarm her. he can feel his own gaze turn soft and apologetic when she briefly tenses as he reaches over her shoulder to pluck the book off the shelf above her. without yet a verbal greeting, he offers her the book, exhaling quietly in some small relief when she confirms it's the correct one. if he can be little else, at least he can be observant. and if he can use that to assist the people he likes, admires, then all the better. once the book is out of his hands, he leans his palm against the shelf beside her, balancing some of his weight on it, a book of his own tucked under his other arm.

" scan your mind? god, the last thing I'd ever want is to be able to read people's thoughts. can you imagine how loud it'd get? " he shrugs, sheepish, his gaze dropping briefly to his toes before he pulls it back up to her face again. " nah, just your eye line. you were very focused. let's call it an educated guess. " his fingers tighten just slightly on the shelf beside him as he fights the urge to look down again. his shyness annoys even himself at times. " mostly I wish I wasn't so tall. usually inconvenient, fitting in cars and airplane seats, trains, anything ... but I guess it can occasionally be helpful. I'm a bit surprised to see you here in the middle of the day. was beginning to think you didn't get days off. "

ezra for sydney : book, sender helps receiver get a book from a higher part of the shelf.

a quick trip to the bookstore, to find one of those niche guides on fusion cuisine she knows she'd never get to use for the bear but she wanted to have at home. having perused to the internet last night, for hours, to read reviews on several cookbooks and then on chef biographies and then on the more obscure titles: the subgenre of spirituality and food for one, some array of vacation diaries for culinary tourism that veered into weirdly exploitive sensationalism, guides on fictional cuisine being tried in real life to varying success among other things. it has taken her some time to get into a direction that felt right, that managed to soothe itch in her brain to make something new for herself ( a new dish entirely or the variation of an old recipe ) and make her finally go to sleep before her alarm would wake her on her day off not at five in the morning, but nine nonetheless. she bundled up for the chicago cold, snowy and frozen, and still is mostly wrapped in her layers when she's in front of the shelves and looking for the book she wants - she jotted down a few, but one specific caught her eye last night and is supposed to be in stock here. why can't she find it?

standing there for a few minutes now, slowly feeling like she's losing her mind, syd's neck is craned so far back that she almost jumps when something collides with it, right in the moment she found the book she's been looking for. a curse under her breath, definitely not feeling like she's just made contact with a ghost, the kickstart of her heart is relieved when she can at least see an arm go past her head and pull out the exact one she wanted all along, making her feel like the intruder is either a book-seller with a sixth sense for their customers or someone who's got a telepathic link to her mind ( she'd attest no one does, not even goddamn richie who likes to proclaim so to piss her off. ) when the book gets held before her, sydney finally turns her head to the side to see who it is, only to find ezra smiling back at her in a sheepish manner, a way she'd probably would too if she were a few inches taller and could read his mind like he could read hers. " how did you know? oh my god, please tell me you didn't, like, scan my mind or something. but hey, thanks, " taking the book from him she holds it between them. " i wouldn't have reached that anyway. "

╰ action starters, accepting.

[echospast]

hello all! I start my new full time position at my job today and I’ve been assigned to a more advanced unit than I expected ( as in, I didn’t think they’d transfer me to that team for another two years but apparently the team lobbied to have me and management believes I can handle it based on my work??? ahhhhhh ) so I’m likely to have a wild few weeks but I do feel I’m likely to need a creative outlet, and while I’ve been on @sommersong more, it is my goal to return here and get caught up and work out new dynamics. I hope everyone is doing well and my discord is always open even if replies may be more sporadic as I’m shadowing the departing attorney for the next three weeks and learning my case load!

[echospast]

@azarathian : this place is so lonely. [ feat. guillaume de la tour ]

THE PLACE GUILLAUME CALLS HOME HAS NEVER FELT THE WAY THE POETRY SAYS IT SHOULD. he is at least self-aware enough to realize why that likely is, of course. all his life, the palais has felt like some sort of enclosure, distinctly indicative of the substantial weight of responsibility which feels as though it has rested upon his shoulders practically since birth. some part of him feels queasy when he considers complaining, knowing exactly how fortunate he is, and yet the legacy he's meant to uphold feels as though it pursues him around every corner in a way he can only somewhat escape in the moments he manages to slip away and conceal himself for an afternoon or evening outside the walls of this palace.

but most people who come here do not sense its emptiness. all they can see is the gilded halls, the ornate decor, the pomp and ceremony of the royal court in which he forces himself to participate but which often feels like pulling teeth – not because he hates the idea, but what it represents. it has occurred to him on many occasions that he's utterly selfish for feeling burdened by his responsibilities. ever since the princess has arrived, gui has wondered what she would say, if he told her that her intended was, in fact, a coward who deep in his heart wanted to run from a life of privilege out of selfishness ... but like the coward he is, he hasn't said a thing, not least because it seems a burden she does not need to carry. she does not want to be here to begin with and he certainly cannot blame her for that.

still, her words make him blink, momentarily striking him speechless.

" you think so? " he says after a moment, unsuccessfully attempting to conceal his surprise. after a moment, he clears his throat, folding his hands before him, biting subtly at his lip to try to hide the somewhat humiliating amount of relief – not, of course, for her loneliness, but that she sees it. on a sigh, he adds, " it is, isn't it. all anybody can ever see is the ... grandeur. but a gilded cage is still just that. " the prince pauses again, his eyes flickering, then dropping sheepishly to his own hands. what a fool he is, to say such a thing to her, of all people, knowing the circumstances. " which ... of course you understand. I apologize. that was ... indecorous of me. I know you would prefer not to be here, given the choice. I take no offense, but I am ... very sorry. "

[echospast]

@duskildan : [ CARRY ] : sender, finding the receiver weakened/unconscious on the floor, immediately lifts them up and carries them back to bed. [ feat. guillaume de la tour ]

GUILLAUME ISN'T SURE HOW HE'D MISSED THE SIGNS OF HOW QUICKLY IT'S PROGRESSED. for all he's fought against the infringing gift, curse, whatever it is that afflicts his bloodline, he's felt it taking over him so much more quickly in the past weeks, and in moments he can spare away, he's desperately searched for a remedy. his copious visits to various apothecaries haven't gone entirely unnoticed, but he's managed to make excuses – and his last day has been spent on bedrest, pleading a flu, refusing assistance and quieting himself as best he can in moments when he writhes in cold sweat, debilitated by the pain of it as his spine splits and the dragon hide creeps centimeters further over his human flesh. it is the secret he's desperately hidden away from vax'ildan, the one part of him he does not wish for him to see. if he were less of a reckless fool, perhaps he would have succeeded in keeping it hidden. had he considered remaining in bed and calling for water instead, he could have concealed the affliction easily.

but he is a reckless fool, and what's done is done, he realizes as he stirs against vax's shoulder.

as he begins to return to consciousness, his bleary attempts to rasp a protest fail as the rogue carries him from the floor back towards the bed. ( gui may be taller, but he knows vax is stronger than he. ) if his thoughts did not jumble in the wake of his weakness, he would more clearly realize that, even if vax cannot currently see the leathery hide sprouting from his back, he can certainly feel it beneath his hands, and perhaps gui would have the presence of mind to feel grateful that his fever already makes him sweat and tremble, to retain an ounce of dignity. but there is no dignity to be found here. instead, he can only whimper, mumble weak and unintelligible apologies, and fight uselessly against what feels like a knife in his throat. the corners of his eyes burn painfully and he knows he's lost the battle.

" no, wait ... vax ... " the prince speaks as though his mouth were swollen, slow and slurred, but desperate. tears run unbidden down his cheeks, so warm that it feels as though they blister the skin. the mattress feels like it rises to meet him as the rogue sets him down, and no matter how he tries he cannot bring the other man's face into focus. his breaths come in gasps, his movements slow, and even as he tries to grasp vax's wrist to keep him there, his grip is no stronger than soft clay. the fever stirs his mind ; his body feels as though it lurches the entirety of the room as a single pained sob chokes from him. " forgive me, forgive me. " even sluggish as it is, he cannot control his tongue, the words that stumble over themselves to escape him. " forgive a coward who loves you ... "

caring for the sick prompts. accepting.