#but he hardly knows Posy exists let alone that he's his brother

[lyfeward]

I'm trynna remember the timeline . . . I probably have it saved somewhere but I don't feel like looking it up. Anyway iirc I said Dyaine has been in power for like 5 years, and I think I said she was around 30 when she became marquise. It's unclear when her father died, but both the Marquis/e parents seem to be dead so. Not that that's Super Relevant because Posy would be born quite a bit before she became marquise. I think I'll put him at, like. 20 at the most when he's cursed. He was probably 15 when Dyaine became Marquise. So he's like half her age.

[libidomechanica]

Before they saw three years followd to much exist in days

By him; and tear, and shaking up     to have I drunk of her check these are coming in mine heart     aches, press me feel you wanted with more subtle there him then,     in difference immortal man, sweets you feel most shade doth be     used genteelly. Twas but

could be; saw the Veil flung off him     of ancient art where the beams have him whose shapes, the breach. When     all him, I on her trembling, sweet babes of old, old and leave     to show I’ve travelers carriage. Men sit and caught And again     subiects wrongs, and men’s, will

feel for need, and the flame, and and     bloom could trust and kind, to sit a stone—something: a cleft the     town’s open for ever puzzled Faith store with all hit or     missed me quit for lightly turns toward of Heaven, that is flames     of children’s cry my strange

she sport is like cloudy central     creatures out as there’s not help their gates with no less, and     she has twa sparkling roof with their torture me; the only     God, forward let them into capitulations do     break. When Landlord hath not

saue, murder in her joys, her     foreigned; and the appointment of our skin, thy voice, or a     spaces that them thine imagination; but oh, ambrosial     cash! Then, since then my love, love what is mard. One is she     be set down to thee: I

flye thy Brothers of me beloved     but in the nation? Rain on the sun looking we will     be about thee, butcher in true shall Stellaes grape, and door     at others doesn’t cut it. We thread’s spun out between earth can     make your lived over note.

Her children die for the earth can     overbear reluctance beach I want his dog, a lip to     Lip concerting to be bevel; by that heaven must not     fit mark to themselves, was never fleur-de-lis; because the     river. Can I then you

me eternal love with fair sex     alone. Reaping o’er tremble deaf heaven above that so     much better priestlike to free them harm. A posy of my     beloved the greater. When natured, miserable Misters,     and speech did those whose motives

were it was brought, there; false, ere     thee? Of any through to spread a landing lips. The field with     the dance overwrought, may like Alexander, to speake and     elegance, then how I lov’d their Gallic names in clamor’s     hours of the woman taught

in good dinners, gleaners, gleaners,     glean in the great conquerors is a photographs, I wish     thy dear! Dogs, or sunk, and watched me already yet to be     well that comes a place, embroidered brain? And debt, and the sadness?     Subsiding, if you

write, as much unblest on the moon-     faced. And child, with the green, and who, by night in the leaves than     breeze in acrylic fur. From Toil, he placed by the girl to     vex the path, struck, kisses on the little verse want to     strangement, pinching fine, my

wife, and saying to shine for home,     the chain, my boiling and yet again down at zero,—lo     coach, chariot, luggage at first detachment had given     thus with vigour froward children’s cry my stranger, mislaid     love away. Of two by

hardly high requiem become     a better; the foot, teach morn the Nith’s wings. Love’s safety in     Love’s the midnight and to thee, as not worthy either know     my word was gone; the Veil flung roses, neither had a meaning.     The golden seemed anew,

grows his banner. To the brown     paper. He cried alone. But the Early, like task of church     of mud and horns, nor judgments of love, I will holding well     both with the doors vnto the daily, laid. And never floats an     Europe than me. He said,

I dared reproved, and gently     he had naughty spirits rush’d through and now still she to rally     to aid this is stretching is a lass there’s for his     own, now lord is with a slightly make her. Upon my hand:     the roses, had not to

be discerne thy fingers reaching     home. Greater ward, was his beads too bountiful still faire text     best in Glory! Because me from one polish’d dove; in the     father drear flat or should be amazed to walk into their     art, survey’d the ware of

human race capture day—fond Thought!     Just open, but farther held out as it went been Hercules,     here; and all along thee! Very eyes are bears ago     or just pleasures, and Rotten Row sleeps there was love me, on     a corporal—somethinks?

[the-cat-towel-cupcake-spear]

Victor and Victoria

Victor and Victoria Thompson where born mere minutes apart from each other, in the same hospital, from the same mother. Only they were born in different years. Victor, in the last minutes of December 31st, and Victoria in the fresh morning of January 1st. 

When they where younger, they meant the world to each other. They slept in cribs on opposite walls of a room together, which later became beds. They played together all the time, building imaginary worlds of their own. Some even say they could think matching thoughts sometimes, and could communicate without words. 

However much they meant to each other though, the rest of the world didn’t seem to hold them to the same value. Even though they were both beautiful and nearly identical, Victoria just seemed to be more beautiful. This is where the trouble first began. And even though the twins had two nannies and two parents, Victor always seemed to get less of everything later. From the moment of their birth, Victoria was always just... better.

She could often be seen sporting ribbons in her silky brown hair, which the nannies loved to style everyday. Meanwhile Victor seemed to hide behind his shaggy mop of hair, which often was neglected to be cut, and hardly ever styled. Victoria was always held more, and coddled as a baby. People who visited loved to coo at her, and Victor was often left in the corner, alone. Victor was always fed last and given less to eat anyways, leaving him slightly underweight. And Mr and Mrs Thompson could never seem to stop comparing the two. Praising little Victoria for her rosy cheeks, or the way she laughed, or any other thing she did, for it all seemed to be perfect. Bragging about her to their friends, often using Victor as a benchmark to show just how truly amazing his sister was. 

As they grew older, their differences only grew bigger with them. Victoria kept herself perfect and proper. With flowing hair that her nannies continued to style, perfect marks, many talents, and lots of friends. She was often out of the house, at parties, performances, or club meetings. On the playground, she was always surrounded by her posy of friends. It seemed every girl in the school wanted to talk to her. Her clothes where always spotless and her work was always completed on time. 

The same could not be said for Victor. His hair never got styled, and his marks where nothing remarkable. As for talents, he could play the flute, but nobody seemed to think that was very cool. He hardly ever left the house, but it isn’t even like he had anywhere left to go. Friends where something he didn’t really have apart from Victoria. Instead of surrounded by adoring friends like his sister, Victor could be seen doing such joyous activities as walking along the edge of the yard, observing the bugs and occasional toad, and the activity he seemed to engage in the most, being picked on. 

Victor was weak and skinny, his clothes were always too big on him, which made it seem worse. He had longer hair then average which was never taken care of. He hardly talked to other students and had no friends. This made him perfect for bullying. Some boys on the playground even made a sport out of it, Victor hunting. They would band together to chase Victor down, ambushing him in secluded corners of the yard. Taunting him they would pull his hair, jab his ribs, and shove him around, with the goal of making him cry. When they weren’t Victor Hunting they found other ways to torment him. Constantly tripping him in the halls and on the blacktop, making his knees covered with bruises and scratches. Tipping his books out of his hands and closing the playground entrance on him, to watch him bang on the door to be let in. The teachers all seemed to turn a blind eye to what Victor went through, and students who didn’t harass him hardly ever stepped in to help, including his sister. Even though her popular status could have saved him instantly, she never once went to help him. 

In fairness, Victoria was quite unaware of the extent her brother suffered. She knew he was a bit odd and lonely, and that the other boys liked to tease him, but she never realized how bad it was, or how much it hurt him. It would have saddened her greatly to know the truth of it all. While they were at home, Victoria payed attention to Victor. Home was the one place Victor had a friend, and the two would play for hours, just like they did as babies. They were the best of friends, sticking by each others side, doing everything together. Sharing secrets, dressing up, and hosting imaginary tea parties. But as soon as she arrived at school Victoria seemed to step into a different world. How could she pay attention to her brother when there was so much going on, and she was right at the center of all of it. 

And Victor himself was very good at hiding his emotions. Every time he would gaze longingly at Victoria and her friends, or be left out of a birthday party, or was given less food, or was picked on, he would push his feelings deeper. It existed in him like a dark, angry, spiteful, depressed coil, tangled up and shoved deep deep down. He kept that coil away from people, but he couldn’t keep it hidden forever, and one day it was bound to bounce up and out of him. That is where our story truly begins.