lamproptera

[lamproptera]

doop doop

(a starter for a fantasy rp)

No sweet dream was this, Tamaki thought as he paced. And a waste of night as well.

How long had they been here? He couldn't say. With the moon still hidden behind the castle spires and half of the garden in shadow, it was impossible to tell.

He stopped, crouched, tugged at his tight collar. He wished he could take it off. He wished he could kick off his boots and feel the ground under his feet, too, because they pinched, and he enjoyed wearing his stuffy court uniform about as much as he did standing in anticipation for word from Nejire (it was Her Majesty now, he supposed) or her intimidating partner.

Which was to say, he didn't like it in the slightest. He much preferred the plain walls and comfortable clutter of his shared cottage to the polished stone halls of Nejir-Her Majesty's shiny new castle.

His quiet yearning brought the place to mind. Tamaki could easily imagine the night unfold as usual: there would be medicines or an elixir to measure out and package while dinner sat in the oven. The sound of it cooking would be soft background noise to a regaling of Mirio's latest adventure in the chase, or gossip gathered on his trip to town, or a quiet, simple, comfortable conversation that would warm Tamaki's heart.

And the sky, with its stars hanging like a glittering shower of ornaments, would still be a shade so dark that it covered him like a blanket the moment he stepped outside. He'd sit under those quiet stars forever if time would allow.

The same sky stretched over them now, but with the sconces lit, it seemed more distant, and delicate. More wispy - so thin it reminded Tamaki of gossamer. He couldn't hide under something that fragile.

He sighed and settled in front of a plant - Queen Anne's lace...no, yarrow, good for burns and potions of protection against natural fires. Gingerly, he pinched a stem between his fingers.

And earlier, too.

He'd noticed eyes on them both as they'd entered the gate and taken to the castle, then as they were escorted from the stables to the throne room to announce their arrival.

He had caught the way the nobles' gazes darted away, how they whispered to each other behind their hands. He was no stranger to unwanted attention. And, of course, it was only natural, given the tendency of...stories...to spread and warp and spread again.

There were so many eyes in the castle.

What could he do but pretend he couldn't hear it? The coup had settled not ten days prior. Nejire and Bakugou had settled, albeit shakily, into their new positions, but neither he nor they knew if the people surrounding them were their allies or enemies, or if they were simply waiting for their own chance at the crown.

However, it still stung to catch the snippets of whispered conversation behind smiles that didn't reach the eyes.

"What business have they here?"

"-an unfortunate case. Two unfortunate cases, actually. That poor knight-"

"They're cursed, Lon, it's why they avoid the capital."

"-monster making a slave out of a demon, putting him in men's garb and parading him around like some pet, it's absolutely perverse if you ask me-"

The last one had turned the chimera's head, and the man's jaw snapped shut as soon as they exchanged looks. (Tamaki took pleasure in how quickly his glance had drained the blood out of the noble's face. And without magic, too.)

Soon after, he and Mirio were escorted to their guest chambers, with no further instruction but to wait for another summons. Though better than the court, Tamaki's nerves were too tightly coiled to relax. The place was too plush for him to stay, and he was wary of every stranger in the castle - even the linen maid who was late starting the fire in his room. Tamaki wondered if their meeting with the new royals had been exceptionally quick, or if the boy had purposely lingered.

...

Too many eyes in the castle.

The garden Mirio had found was better. The plants here were large, and grew in orderly rows. There wasn't a stalk in sight that the keepers had neglected to tie to supporting rods. No leaves littered the walkways. No single vine crossed any of its neighbors. Tamaki breathed in and could almost taste the warm soil, and the shining fruits and flowers that hung elegantly off of the trellises. Better, indeed: the place was immaculate (nothing less for the crown, he supposed) but alive, far more inviting than the smooth-cut walls that still loomed above them.

But he was sure that there were guards posted within earshot.

I want to go home, Mirio.

Tamaki hated the capital.

He wanted to leave.

His eyes flicked to his childhood friend, as familiar as the lines of his palm, and steady as stone in the ever-fluid politics and atmosphere of the capital. He pressed his tongue against his teeth, considering.

Mirio knew he was uncomfortable.

He also knew they had to stay.

But Tamaki knew that he only had to say. Always, if he asked, whatever he asked, Mirio would push through walls to make it so.

He bit his lip.

…

And let go of the breath he had been holding. He wouldn’t put any more burden on Mirio than he’d already had.

He twisted the cluster of white flowers from the stem and with his fingertips, crushed the little blooms.

“Their herbs are domesticated,” he said instead, wincing at how the breathy nervousness in his own voice seemed to punch through the quiet.

(And even that seemed thick and oppressive and nothing at all like the gentle hum of their patch of forest.)

“Gonna need more if they want anything as strong as standard."