#did I try to make Seòras a mustache twirling villain

[thewolfisawake]

🎥 Eriskyne

Send 🎥 for a random scene of my muse’s life

"Deorsa, mo luran, what are you up to at this time?" the nursemaid questioned. Eriskyne only looked up for a moment before burying their head back into their effort, "Nothing, Beitris."

"Oy, I've said many times that's mum not Beitris."

"You are nothing like her so I will not be doing that," the young child replied as they continued rubbing with their muller across the surface.

No instead they decided to continue with making this color from some of the flowers. They had finally come to this final step of taking the graininess of the pigment. So they dutiful spread it out with his muller. It was a vibrant peach mix with a golden sheen. They couldn't have something like this from the mortal realm but out in the Seelie there were flora of immense beauty in hues and tints artists would scramble for.

So absorbed in their work of smoothing and gathering were they that they hadn't heard the call of the master entering. Nor did they notice the saunter of their father until, "Child."

A gasp left Eriskyne as they dropped their palette knife, a splatter of the pigment scattering into silver laden locks. They turned to see Seòras. A tang reached their mouth as they called, "Sir?"

"What is it you are doing?"

"I..." Eriskyne looked to discerning gold and shied away. Looking down, they then met their gaze again. They revealed a vial of the peach and gold pigment and raised it to their parent's view. Its edged crusted with the bits scraped from their knife that they tried to fit in, "...I was making a paint."

Seòras examined the vial and the stained hands that held them. He picked it up between two fingers as if to get a better sense of the hue. It did tend to change slightly with the light. But then he dropped it, the glass shattering leaving a dribbling mess.

"How is it you have time for tomfoolery yet not your studies?"

"I have studied," Eriskyne defended, "even this I've gotten familiar with the flora and fauna here and understanding uses for them."

"But have you acquainted yourself with the history of families of the Court?"

"There is dozens of families, how can I--"

"Or come to understand the language?"

"--speaking sure but the difference between modern and older--"

"Can you even perform a simple waltz?"

"..."

Seòras looked at the child. He saw the paint splatter and stains that sullied any presentability. He noticed their awkwardness that stunted any of the natural regalness of their kind. He could hear the technicality in which they spoke which was still so much like her. Even with their progress and the locale he chose for their tutelage, he still needed--wanted--more from them. Especially if there was to be any chance to introduce them to the princess.

His gaze made Eriskyne shrink as they probably couldn't answer another of his questions. Accusations really but that wouldn help their case. They looked downcast as they heard, "All I am hearing are excuses and that your time is better spent away from frivolities."

"Beitris, come clean this up."

Eriskyne remained rooted, unhearing of the rest that had to be said. Instead their attention was on the blotch of color on the floor. Its form shuddered before sharpening into a colorful crystalline. A spiked bloom from under their power unseen by their father and a surprise the nursemaid.

It really did seem peace, in any of its forms, was not an option in this strange place that was to be their home.