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hail to the v

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kristinehyland:

Though he’d not presented himself as an evaluator of goods, she was somehow disappointed that he didn’t have a solid answer for her. Silvers were, to her mind, a monolith of grand affairs and knowledge forbidden to her Red ears. WHY didn’t he know what it was worth? If he didn’t tell her what she should get for it, she wouldn’t be able to sell it on without risking the merchant lowballing her.

Well, it wasn’t this man’s fault.

“Hmph,” she said, settling back against the bench. “Doesn’t seem worth the effort of hagglin’.” She held it out towards him. “Got some fancy princess lady you need a gift for? I’ll give it to you for free ‘n all, man.”

                            She continues to surprise him. First asking him for his appraisal on the pin, then outright offering to GIVE it to him.  He sits in stunned silence for a beat longer than social etiquette probably deems acceptable, before words finally catch up with him. ( She really is a strange one. Again, he wonders, if ALL Reds are this way. )

                           ❝ Uh, THANKS, ❞ he says, voice not completely devoid of the surprise he feels. He takes the pin from her fingers and turns it between his own, staring at it. It’s then that a thought occurs to him, and his free hand digs into the pocket of his jacket. ❝ Wait, here-- ❞ Caius says, pulling out a coin -- a tetrarch. She was thinking of selling it, after all. It seems only fair.

                             ( He doesn’t even want the pin, honestly. But she’s made the offer and there’s no harm in accepting it. ) 

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havenromulus:

“No need to thank me. It’s such a rare occurrence–seeing you out and alone in this wild jungle of social interaction, considering I hardly see you skulking about in the smaller Silver parties.“ With his free hand, Romulus plucked a slice of strawberry from the top of the funnel cake and sucked it into his mouth. “Did you lose Kieran? How will you survive with all these Reds and Silvers vying for your attention?” A barrage of questions, and Rom kept shooting. “Should I walk you past the vendors? They’ll zero in on me instead of you. I’m dressed better so they’ll assume I’m the one holding the heavier amount of coin.”

                            If he were to be truthful, thankful is just about the LAST thing Caius currently is. Anxious. Fidgety. Worried. All of those, yes. THANKFUL? Not a chance. But he can’t say that to Romulus, oh no. He can’t say anything he’s thinking. ❝ No.... he’s with Gerard. ❞ Caius speaks quietly, in response to his probing. ❝ No, please. ❞ his voice takes on a particularly high pitch that he’s not proud of, and he cuts himself off to regain composure. The idea of being dragged around the entire carnival by Romulus is one of HORROR. ❝ That’s.... not necessary? ❞ he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

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                               It’s playing with fire ( quite literally ) to stand so close to the hotheaded youngest princess, that Caius knows, but it’s a decided risk he’s taking. He was here first, after all. To move away would only draw attention to himself, and he’s not confident he could FLEE fast enough to escape Helene’s  g r a s p.

                                He quietly wonders why the princess seeks solace in solitude, having guessed she would be in the center of everything; it is a celebration in her name, after all. For Caius himself, the reason is rather simple, if not obvious -- to get away from the crowds. In fact, anyone looking for him would know to check the quieter corners first. But he and Helene are quite different people, and she never struck him as the type to shy away from attention. Still, he’s content enough to not ask, lest he offend, and rather hopes she’ll move on without so much as a glance in his direction.

                               No such luck. 

                               She addresses him and he bites the inside of his cheek, perhaps to keep from screaming. To his surprise, it’s lacking the typical aggression that he’s come used to seeing from the princess. Caius doesn’t know how to react. ( He strongly wishes that it were a different Calore he were speaking to, in truth. ) Then again, perhaps he does not know as much about Helene’s nature as he thinks, considering they both have sought the same  e s c a p e  from the chaos. 

                                ❝ Not particularly. ❞ Caius admits, running fingers through his hair for a moment. Still, he’s out here, at the behest of his friends -- and hating almost every part of it. He curls in on himself, instinctively. Arms across his chest, holding his shoulder. DEFENSIVE. ❝ Happy Birthday, YOUR HIGHNESS. ❞ He adds after quickly, addressing her with nothing but the respect that her station deserves, because Caius is not a fool. He’s seen what the burner has done to those who treat her carelessly. If it can be helped, Caius does not want to make that list. 

— @siinger

Her father’s sudden desire to show her the same attention he’d showered the twins with for years — palace-wide parties in Summerton in the heat of June to celebrate another year of their existence — was nothing short of suspicious. How convenient that the King, after twenty years of all but ignoring his youngest daughter, should decide to honor her birth mere days after what the Elite had deemed a TERRORIST attack.

Helene had always hungered for her father to show her that he did, in fact, love her, but this grandiose show came a bit too late. The scorned sixteen year old princess might’ve been overjoyed at the gesture, but the bitter twenty year old merely accepted it, albeit a bit smugly, and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Really, she rather liked the attention, but after an already-plastered Red had laid a heavy hand on her waist and slurred a “happy birthday” in her ear, only to be brutally dragged off by a sentinel, the blonde had retreated to a quieter corner to watch from afar. Reds had never been invited to the twins’ celebrations, and the realization, coupled with a desire to burn holes in her father’s half-assed apology in disguise (if it could even be called that) led her to question his intentions even further.

But she wasn’t alone. Caius Jacos, the quiet singer to whom her older sister often seemed to be attached at the hip, lingered a few feet away, and while the thought briefly crossed her mind that he, too, had been insultingly intimate with the inferiors and had paused to regain his composure — it was too early to light any guests on fire, even she’d admit it — she had a feeling that it hadn’t even taken a disgusting encounter to drive him here.

The blonde man could scarcely make eye contact with his equals. It was a wonder that he’d even left the safety of the palace, even if it was just to hide in a corner, protected from prying eyes by a colorful tent.

“You didn’t strike me as the party-going type.” That was putting it rather nicely. His clear friendship with the sister she despised and his blatant lack of confidence were enough to warrant more, but she had more challenging — more interesting — people to exchange barbs with than Caius Jacos, not that she expected him to retaliate.

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Gerard: Hey, Furrows.

Caius: What? Me?

Gerard: Yes. Furrows between the eyes. Moping. Lost in your own issues.

Caius: Can't a man think without being judged for it?

Gerard: I'm not judging. I was gonna say you're pretty good at it. I can't pull that off.

Caius: A tragedy, for sure.

Gerard: And I mean, if you're going to brood, you might as well reap the benefits.

Caius: What benefits?

Gerard: The ladies.

Caius: (sighs)

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                                Are all Reds like this? Caius wouldn’t know. He goes out of his way to avoid as much interaction as possible with everyone -- Reds and Silvers alike -- and admittedly the Reds are easier to do so with. He can’t remember the last time one of them sought him out to talk, not in the way some Silvers find fascination in doing so. More often than not, they were just simply... THERE. ( Truth be told, he hasn’t given them much thought at all before. Their existence is simply a fact of life, and yet separate from his own. )

                                Whatever the case, her questions keep coming, the nature of them throwing him off guard and leaves him uncertain how to respond. ❝ ... Maybe? I’ve never tried. ❞ Caius doesn’t even come to events like this usually, much less partake in activities that hand out prizes. He glances down at the pin in her hand; it looks like decent quality -- not that he’s particularly well versed on hat pin quality -- but being that it came from a CARNIVAL, it probably won’t amount to much coin. ❝ Maybe a copper or two? ❞ If the merchant doesn’t try to shortchange her because she’s Red, but he doesn’t mention that. 

The natural response is to assume you’re being laughed at. When you’re a Red, and you ask a Silver a question about their world, they all want to laugh. But Kris didn’t feel laughed AT; she also didn’t feel laughed WITH, so she wasn’t really sure what to make of it. He was all soft around the edges, and it wasn’t something she knew how to deal with. Kris was always afraid of breaking the things she touched.

“A fuckin’ WHAT now?” She asked, almost outraged by the idea of such a thing. “Well I ain’t got a hat. Think I can sell it? I thought the prizes you got at carnivals was meant t’be shit but this looks expensive. Is it worth much?”

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                               Caius has resolved himself to the fact that the BEST thing he can do right now is try to stay out of others’ way. Just because the carnival is not something HE particularly enjoys, does not mean it’s like that for everyone. Indeed, despite his own anxiety, he’s not blind to the merriment happening around him. Instead of standing around like an awkward statue, he finds a bench and promptly claims the seat for an indefinite period of time, trying to  B L O C K  it all out. 

                                 He notices when the girl sits down beside him, but doesn’t acknowledge her until she turns to speak to him directly. It’s such an odd question that, despite himself, Caius laughs. It’s short and soft, easily lost among the sounds of the carnival around them, but it’s there. ❝ Uh, no, no. ❞ He shakes his head lightly. ❝ It’s a hat pin? Decorative. Not, um... a weapon. ❞ The idea is so incredulous to him, he can’t help but smile just a bit. 

@siinger

She wasn’t sure she quite understood the carnival games. If she threw darts at balloons and popped enough, she won a prize. But… why? She had played to see if she was good at it, and she was, but when the woman running the stall handed her a prize she was confused.

Now seated on a bench, she turned the thing over in her fingers. She wasn’t aware of hat pins, and even if she was, she didn’t own a hat in which to pin it. The thing was about as long as her finger, with a small cluster of pearls hanging from a delicate silver chain at its end - the other end was pointy, enough that it drew blood when she poked her fingertip with it. She looked to the man sharing her bench; he was quiet, seemingly lost in his own world. “’Scuse me,” she said, politely as she was able. “Is this a weapon? Seems real small to me.” And she held the hat pin up to him for his appraisal.

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                            Caius determinedly looks at the ground, acutely aware of the fact that Romulus continues to stare him down, much to his chagrin. He thinks maybe after a moment, the shadow will have had his fun and leave him in peace -- but of course not. Just when he thinks he might be free, Romulus speaks up again, expects him to follow, and all he wants to do is turn around and escape in the opposite direction. INSTEAD, he shuffles his feet forward reluctantly, barely looking up enough to avoid bumping into anyone. When Romulus returns, it’s with something that looks sickeningly sweet, no doubt delightful. Caius stares at it like it might bite him, before finally, hesitantly reaching out to pinch off a piece -- maybe if he does what he wants, he’ll be satisfied enough to just leave him alone. ❝ Thanks,❞  he mutters quietly.

“Suit yourself.“ Romulus took a quick bite, tearing off a quarter of the corn dog with his front teeth, chewing it slowly as he watched Caius squirm. And the Singer was from another age group, so their interactions–

Had they ever interacted?

Romulus couldn’t recall. And really–Caius was entertaining. So easily flustered and quickly ruffled. Rom couldn’t help but tease.

“Here. You’ll like this better.“ Motioning for Caius to follow him to a nearby booth. And cutting to the head of the line with an easy smile and a few words, Romulus walked back his way with a paper plate heaped with an order of funnel cake, generously sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar, heavy with whipped cream and fresh strawberries. He waited for the Singer’s reaction expectantly.

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                        This is all... so much. So much more than he’s used to, and it’s almost too much. He needs a break, just a moment, to stop and catch his breath. He seeks out some sort of safe place among the crowds, spotting a bench a few yards away. There’s someone already there, but he decides it’s worth the risk -- perhaps they won’t want to talk to him anyway. ( He’s wrong, of course he is. ) Caius’ face is more or less buried in his hand when she speaks. ❝ What? ❞ he asks, but immediately shakes his head when he realizes what she’s asked. ❝ No, ❞ he mutters quietly, ❝ Thanks. ❞

Victoria was sure that candy floss was one of the best things that had ever been invented. The bright pink spun sugar melted in her mouth as she placed it on her tongue and she let out a small sigh of sweet satisfaction. Wanting to enjoy her treat, Victoria plopped herself down onto a bench so that she could watch the carnival go on around her. Someone came to sit besides her and she turned to them, holding out some of her treat. “Would you like some candy floss?” 

@siinger

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(x.)

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♗

♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse’s lap.

run past all the light1,296 words, prosperina/caius, post-queenstrial!au

The first day after, she goes to her father and says, “I’d like tomarry for love.” He tells her to come back when she’s stopped crying.

The second day, he tells her to come back when she means it.She goes back the next day, and the next, and the next.

On the nineteenth day, Graham marries Juliana in the tiniestwedding she’s ever seen. She and Sera stand witness, Juliana’s pregnancycurving up beneath her dress, and she wrings her own hands so tightly it hurts. 

She goes back to her father thatnight.

“When you mean it, my daughter,” sighs Richard Titanos,curving one tired finger over her face, “When you mean it.”

Keep reading

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I love your Caius so much. From the FC change to the intricate details you throw into your paras, I absolutely /love/ reading about who he is and how he's feeling. You make him so deep, even when he says such few words to those he interacts with, and that is honestly a talent.

I’M CRYING RIGHT NOW HOLY SHIT. I’m just??? Thank you so much?? This means so much to me I don’t even know how to properly describe. I’ve been squealing over this for like the past ten minutes, like, you literally just made my day.

❤❤❤

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                         A string of curses runs through Caius’ head. He cringes and ducks his head at the call out, desiring nothing more than to disappear ( if he were a shadow, he thinks, the world would never see him again ). The Haven heir has always been LOUD, BOLD, but his attention has never been turned on Caius before, and he regrets that it’s found its way to him now. ❝ N-no... no thank you,❞ he shakes his head, -- harder than necessary, perhaps -- trying to think of any way to  e s c a p e.

@siinger

“Caius. Jacos.“ Romulus made a show of clapping at the sight of him, a slow, drawn out, even beat of sound, and the disbelief in his voice was clearly overstated as he confessed, “This is the last place I expected to see you. Crowds. Noise. Crowds.” Repeating the word for emphasis.

The subdued and muted Singer in the sea of excessive festivities–it really was an odd sight.

“Corn dog?” He held it out as an offering.

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                          The truth is yes. Yes, he is content to do just that, but he doesn’t say that to Kieran. Caius shakes his head and begins to run fingers through his hair -- a nervous habit. He hates being put on the spot. ❝ You two-- ❞ he gestures slightly at the pair, ❝ can talk? ❞ is the solution he offers to the situation ( careful, always careful about phrasing; Kieran might be immune to his singing but Gerard isn’t ). I can listen. He’s good at listening. 

                         Caius is perfectly fine to not be included in the conversation, just strolling along as the third party member while they engage. If Kieran’s worried about him feeling LEFT OUT -- he needn’t bother. For him, simple company is enough. ( In fact, he rather prefers if there’s minimal communication; not that he has a problem talking to Kieran at all normally, but the singer is always more prone to silence, especially in higher stress situations -- which is just about anything he’s not used to. LIKE A CARNIVAL. )

                          . But if Gerard is trying... then he probably should too. Dammit. ❝ Whatever you want, ❞ he echoes. Caius figures Gerard is just about  a d a p t a b l e  as he is; isn’t that something, then, that he’s willing to try for the sake of their friend. Caius knows that he owes Kieran no less, either.  ❝ I’ll... be willing try? ❞ it’s a promise of an attempt, but that’s a start. Even if it means having to talk. He fights the desire to look at Gerard, watch his face to gauge his reaction to all of this. He wonders if the stoneskin is feeling as uncomfortable in this environment as he is right now ( probably not possible, anyway ).

                         . Caius sighs lightly, shoving his hand back into the pocket of his jacket. He really isn’t good at this. After a beat of silence, he finally asks, ❝ What do you want me to say? ❞

He bit his tongue at Gerard’s remark less he prove it to be true, pursing his lips as the only sign he was annoyed by it. There was a difference between being a drama queen and…not…being one, and even though Kieran danced on that line often enough, he was not a drama queen. 

Maybe a drama princess, but still.

That wasn’t the greater matter in the situation. He remained turned to Caius, the furrow in his brow softening to worry at the soft line lost to the air. The swell of concern for Caius washed over him once again, and Kieran wondered ( and not for the first time ) what – or who – hurt Caius for him to keep so quiet. Yes, his powers were frightening, but he wasn’t, and that made all the difference. At least, it should for basic interactions.

But Kieran shouldn’t judge. He had to beat such thoughts away because Caius didn’t deserve that, not after he stood by Kieran’s side. 

                 ( but kieran still wanted them all to enjoy tonight )

“Caius,” he said, voice clear yet softer than when he first began speaking, “are you really content with walking around and all of us remaining quiet when there is so much to do around us?” Facing Gerard, he asked, “Is that what you want to do?”

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Gerard: When people get a little too chummy with me I like to call them by the wrong name to let them know I don't really care about them.

Griffin: That's a genius move.

Gerard: Thank you.

Griffin: You're welcome, Lester.

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                           Sure, Caius is quiet. That’s generally how one acts when they’re in an uncomfortable situation. And Caius is nothing if not uncomfortable, right now. If asked what he would prefer to do today, the answer would certainly NOT be this. Though Kieran’s presence makes the day a bit more tolerable ( and Gerard is a good barrier to keep most silvers away ), the fact remains, he still isn’t particularly happy to be here. Nor does he feel any sort of ease in this setting. Thus, he is quiet. 

                           And he’s perfectly content to keep it that way for the remainder of the event, had Kieran not drawn attention to it. Caius cringes, determinedly staring at the stone beneath his feet. He hates being expected to talk. Interact. It’s not polite or decent of him to close himself off from everyone as he does, that Caius knows, but such facts hardly bother him. Gerard never really seems to mind the silence, anyhow. Or, if he does, the stoneskin does not voice such an opinion. Really, Caius thought they were both fine continuing on as the always have. Apparently, Kieran has other ideas. 

                           ❝ I’m-- ❞ He nearly apologizes instinctively, open mouthed as the words begin to spill out, only to cut himself off at Gerard’s remark. His cheeks blush silver and he shakes his head, ducking lower in chagrin. Caius curses himself, quietly, for his nature -- and dammit, the feeling of needing to apologize for THAT. Instead, he shuts his mouth tight, hands tucked inside his pockets beginning to curl together tightly -- not out of anger, but anxiety. 

                           ( If Kieran wants him to talk, he’s going to have to  p r y  his mouth open. )

Licking his lips, he refrained from sighing and rubbing his hand over his face and making a sound — generally, anything that would disclose to the two men before him how close his nerves were to becoming thoroughly plucked.

He wanted to enjoy the festivities, for as little time as they were granted, and yet —-

“Caius,” he started, raising his brows to his best friend. Then, turning to his left, he offers a smile to the other man and added, “Gerard. Tonight, His Highness has declared this night to be filled with such happiness. So much of it, for celebrating a birthday – a passage of time, of looking forward to another year of living – is meant to be so, and also, to put it frankly, fun. But here we are, doing the exact opposite of that.”

Tapping his cane against the ground, he swallowed his irritation and swung his head back and forth between the two. “Can you please speak? To one another?”

@siinger, @gerardmacanthos

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“I can’t stop laughing.” [x]