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anyway-heres-enderal · 6 years

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i couldnt shut up about enderal right now if i wanted to so here’s that prophet ask meme with my prophetess fleur

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1. The basics – name, age, etc…

her name is fleur! i don’t know her last name but that’s okay because she’s kind of abandoned it. both of my vyn protags have line-of-sight, musically-inspired names so after that fuckin nightmare intro scene i had to name her as an homage to the song that was playing in my head the entire time it was happening (warning: disturbing imagery, abuse of some sort that is not shown but is strongly implied)

she’s 26 years old, half-kilean and bisexual.

2. Describe their appearance.

there’s a picture up there but a few other specifics: her hair is actually white, not just very light blonde, and she has blue eyes

3. How do they like to dress?

she jumps at the chance to wear nice clothes. she never got to back in ostian.

4. Do they have any markings (scars, tattoos, birthmarks)?

she has a few scars from a couple scuffles she got into back in nehrim. one of then is pretty gnarly-looking but it’s a diagonal from her lower chest to her left hip so once the events of enderal started rolling nobody who had seen it was still alive. word to the wise: don’t try to 1v1 a thunder lizard when you’re 14.

5. What are they like? Describe their personality (use whatever tools you like- MBTI, D&D alignment, astrological signs, Hogwarts house, words/phrases):

first of all, the only one of those tools that i have even a remotely decent grasp on is d&d alignment. she’s neutral-bordering-on-chaotic good. i don’t make characters with messages behind them (esp if they’re not for anyone’s consumption but mine) but hers would be “optimism with a dose of realism is probably the healthiest way to see the world”--she has the good sense to know when a situation or a person is beyond help but until that point she will try everything to help them. she desperately wanted to be wrong about adila and even as he was preparing his kamikaze attack she tried so hard to talk yuslan down.

to temper this, though, she takes things too seriously and she’s a bit of a crybaby (ok, not just a bit. alessia, my shadowgod, cried three times over the course of the entire main quest. fleur cried three times over the course of the very first quest that didn’t take place inside a trauma nightmare), although you could argue that she just has like. a normal human reaction to trauma, and everything that happens to her in enderal is EXTREMELY FUCKING TRAUMATIC.

since i have an easier time using tools like the ones described in the question to describe personalities, if she was a disney character she’d be rapunzel from tangled but less naive and with meaningful agency and if she was a social link/confidant in a persona game her card would be the star.

6. How would they describe themselves?

she has really low self-esteem but she doesn’t like. outright hate herself so she’s dismissive of any notion that she’s special or pretty. this probably sounds extremely sue-ish but a) i don’t give a fuck and b) every diy protagonist is at least kind of a mary sue simply because they’re the big special chosen one who all the romanceable companions have feelings for.

7. Education level?

uh. Not Any, Formally Speaking. School Of Hard Knocks. Worked For A Historian In Her Late Teens-Early Twenties And Learned Most Of What She Knows That Isn’t On The School Of Hard Knocks Curriculum That Way.

8. What are they proud of in themselves? What are they embarrassed about?

like the one notable talent that she’ll accept having is that she’s really smart and even before the Everything That Happened On The Ship Headed To Enderal she was a really quick learner.

she has ZERO prior experience with romance (she’s not in any way aromantic, she’s just never been in a romantic relationship) and she doesn’t like to tell people that, especially people she likes. she feels like they’ll think there’s something seriously wrong with her and that’s why she’s never been in a romantic relationship at age 26. 9. Do they know any languages other than Inal?

she knows like. kindergarten-level kilean.

10. What, if any, aspects of their mother’s culture influenced them growing up?

she didn’t really “grow up” with her parents, they died when she was six, but she has a strong belief in the importance of diplomacy and that’s pure Mom right there.

11. Name a song (or a few) that remind you of them.

i hope you like obscure musicals and vocaloid because that’s what you’re getting

In All My Dreams I Drown - The Devil’s Carnival Cast

Starchild - Ghost Quartet

Tears To Shed - Corpse Bride

Ever Lasting Night - Hitoshizuku-P (specifically the Miku character)

Lemonade - Sophie (sorry 4 mood whiplash)

12. Speaking of songs, can they sing? What is their voice like? How about instruments?

she’s hopeless with instruments but she’s not a bad singer by any means. sorry 4 relentless youtube links but she kind of sounds like Gelsey Bell

13. What was their life like before coming to Enderal?

it wasn’t good, i’m not going to lie. she and sirius spent a pretty decent amount of time roughing it because towns and cities kind of got progressively more dangerous as time went on, and Because Of Reasons I Won’t Go Into Here they both had pretty good reasons to avoid anyone affiliated with the temple of the creator

14. How did they decide to leave Nehrim?

it was too fuckin dangerous to try to make a life there anymore

15. Describe their relationship with Sirius.

they were siblings in all senses but blood. he got her out of a pretty bad situation when they were kids and she just stuck with him until they had been through so much together there was no other way for them to describe their relationship than “family”

16. Who do they blame for what happened to their family?

herself. survivor’s guilt is a hell of a drug and it doesn’t help that things only got worse afterward. she like. knows the temple did it, but since she doesn’t know why she’ll always wonder if there was something she could have done to stop it.

17. Apart from stowing away, have they ever broken the law?

she would be considered an accomplice to murder because she helped hide a body once (don’t worry, the victim without question deserved it)

18. How honest are they? Under what circumstances would they lie?

basically the only person she directly lies to is herself; if she’s dishonest, it’s usually by omission. the rare occasions she does outright lie it’s usually to protect someone or because there’s no way anyone would believe the truth.

19. Worst memory(s)? Best memory(s)?

Too Heavy For This Post and uhhhh. getting to spend time with her two BFFs/crushes on the Gertrude before everything started really going to shit was an extremely good memory for her.

20. Fight, or flight?

fight unless they’re like. demonstrably stronger. running away from an enemy she had a chance of defeating has always just come back to bite her. she wanted to fight the steel bird in the star city.

21. Describe their combat style.

Best Defense Is A Good Offense, Also Axes = Good. (original playthrough was greataxes and heavy armor but i’ll probably switch to war axes and light armor [or unarmored if i can swing it] when the steam release drops because apparently half-kileans are equivalent to bretons in normal skyrim terms and i can’t abide having played a heavy armor + two-handed breton twice)

22. Have they ever killed before? What is their reaction to combat?

she’s hunted animals but she’d never done more to a human than injure them enough to scare them off prior to enderal. she tries to only harm people in self-defense and may have cried a little bit (ok, quite a bit) after she had to kill firespark.

23. How do they react to having magical abilities? Do they use them?

magic makes her head feel “gross” somehow (read: she’s uniquely sensitive to arcane fever) so she doesn’t use it

24. What do they think of Enderal?

the scenery’s beautiful but the fact that it’s a theocracy and the notion of being stuck on a certain “path” depending on the circumstances of your birth freaks her out for reasons of “hey remember the oppressive religious regime that was responsible for all of your childhood trauma and continued to make your life hell before a mysterious trans power couple plus their direct superior group of outsiders instigated a rebellion that brought the whole thing down? now it controls the whole continent and everyone thinks it’s Good, Actually”

25. Did they do the Biggest Egg Hunt Ever quest?

she would have if my dumb ass hadn’t completely fuckin spaced it out and forgotten about it until it was too late. next playthrough, i swear.

26. How do they feel about joining the Order? What do they think of Arantheal?

she was not in favor of it (see: opinion of theocracies) and basically clung to the green shirts until she was inducted as a keeper. arantheal makes her uneasy but the threat of looming armageddon does a lot to help her shove that uneasiness to the side.

27. What is their opinion of the gods (or lack thereof)?

she’s not inherently against the gods but she doesn’t like organized religion

28. Wine, or pipe?

wine!

29. Do they spare or arrest Hallys, the farmer-turned-bandit in the quest, Deus Ex Machina? Why?

she arrested him after she found out where the money really came from. if it hadn’t been Stolen From A Fucking Food Bank she probably would have let him go.

30. What are their feelings and opinions about the Undercity?

uh...she hates that ark has a “slum district out of sight of the Good And Honorable Rich People” because having been poor and homeless basically until she came to enderal she can’t help but empathize with the residents of the undercity.

31. How do they react to the beggars of Ark?

if tumblr doesn’t stop refreshing the page and deleting my answers every time i switch tabs to look at the wiki or change the song i’m listening to i’m going to throw my laptop off the porch.

she usually reacts by sparing some change because she can relate

32. Where and how do they spend their time when in Ark?

she really likes the museum in the south quarter. she likes learning stuff and looking at relics of the past.

33. What would they do with three wishes?

just...stop the fuckin cycle

make the black stones inert so nobody else gets hurt because of them

this is basically deliberate repression so it’s 100% unhealthy but she would gladly wish to forget everything that happened before she was seven if it would put an end to the nightmares

34. How do they feel about death? Do they fear it?

uh. yes. she very bigly fears death. she kind of had a complete breakdown after the keeper exam until calia reassured her that just because she heard something during her harrowing doesn’t mean it’s true.

35. What (else) do they fear?

deep water (predates game events). also i dont know if it’s necessarily a fear but she hates being surprised.

36. Do they have any secrets?

uh. Yeah. her dad really was as bad as the dreams show. a few other things.

37. How is their behavior around people they like? People they dislike?

she’s about as friendly and affectionate as her shyness will allow with people she likes. it takes a LOT for her to be actively hostile but she’ll only attempt like. the barest superficial politeness to people she dislikes. 38. What is their relationship with the companions? Who, if anyone, did your prophet romance?

they’re her very good friends who she is also crushing on hard. yeah, both of em. she ended up with jespar kind of by default because i wasn’t making an effort to specifically target either of them but i kind of like the contrast between them so i’m gonna leave that in the Canon Playthrough Bin.

39. Was there any non-companion character that they were close to? That they particularly disliked?

does ryneus count? she would have taken him back to the sun temple and had the few green shirts left alive help her build some method of locomotion for him if she could have. also she had a crush on lishari. she didn’t have anyone she strongly disliked other than obvious shitbirds like taranor.

40. How do they feel about myrads?

she thinks they’re Big Cute Dog Monster Boys

41. What dreams or ambitions did they have before coming to Enderal? What about afterwards?

she wanted to be an archaeologist! she kind of got to do archaeologist stuff during her time in enderal but she wishes that she’d been able to do it without an apocalyptic sword of damocles hanging over her

42. Do they like cities? Or do they prefer the country? Is there a region of Enderal that they like or dislike more than the others?

she doesn’t necessarily dislike city life because she often gets lonely so living somewhere with a big population is always a tempting thought, but if she could take everyone she loves and go live somewhere peaceful where there’s no oppressive government or looming apocalypse she would.

her ideal Cottage Away From All The Bad Things would be in the goldenforst but she loves the crystal forest even though if she gets too close to the crystals it makes her feel like her brain is trying to vibrate out of her skull.

43. What do they do to lower their considerable stress?

go on walks in one of the numerous beautiful locations in enderal. take apart inactive mechanical constructs and try to understand their inner workings from their guts. press flowers.

44. Describe their perfect day off.

wake up from a nightmare-free sleep (you said “perfect”), go on a nice walk around the city (paying a visit to the museum of course!), meet up with her friends and find something fun to do that won’t put them in mortal danger, get drunk at the dancing nomad when it gets too dark for wandering around outside the city to be a good idea, and then watch the stars.

45. List three of their favorite things. Three things they hate?

likes:

sugar bread

the color gold

nice scenery

dislikes:

cooked cabbage

mead

bugs

46. What’s in their pockets?

emergency healing potion

herbs for making another emergency healing potion

at least one apple

random flowers that look cool

a ton of those vendor trash crystal coins you find in pyrean ruins. she just thinks they’re neat!

47. Pets? Mounts? Treasured possessions?

she’s never really had a lot she could hold on to and the thought of prizing a short-lived animal or an item that’s easy to lose is frightening.

48. How are their cooking skills?

NOT FUCKIN GOOD

(she can cook meat alright but anything more complex than that? no)

49. Do you consider any particular quest or side quest to be definitive for your prophet? Which one(s) and why?

i bulldozed through the main quest on my first playthrough; i’ll probably be able to answer this question better once the steam release drops and i can replay the game.

50. How forgiving are they? For example, if they were yelled at in a brothel after searching high and low for this little sh*t, how would they react?

first of all, everyone has a different reaction to traumatic experiences and sometimes that reaction isn’t “palatably sad and helpless” so jot that down. that being said, fleur was extremely upset about that because a) she’s also not an “uwu soft helpless cinnamon roll” kind of trauma survivor, b) some of what he said was generally hurtful, and c) that entire mission had already been one big long anxiety attack

but she’s too hyperempathetic to hold a grudge, especially when a) she knows where the person who hurt her was coming from, b) she gets a sincere apology, and c) she is more than a little in love with the person doing the apologizing.

51. What do they think of the Veiled Woman?

uh. mixed feelings. for what it’s worth, her feelings are mixed because they started out negative and then once she actually got to talk to the veiled woman her opinion strongly improved but like...sirius still died right in front of her because of this woman’s actions so they’ll never be fully positive.

52. If they had been a victim of one of the black stones, how would it have affected them? What would they have used its power to accomplish?

[slams huge portfolio of ideas i’ve had about this exact scenario on your desk] well y’see fleur as she is in canon is a brand of yandere that only technically qualifies as such: she won’t kidnap or murder people who reject her advances, but...uh...don’t harm her loved ones and expect mercy.

fleur under the influence of the black stones...well. it’d be very much like this except not Literally Directed Toward A Fucking Relative. esp the “well you found out now all i can hope for from you is to see your face one last time as you kill me” ending. not quite full yuno gasai love-me-or-i’ll-slaughter-you giggling while hacking someone up but. you know. Something Adjacent.

53. What was their reaction to the Black Guardian’s revelations? Do they accept or reject his offer?

she just kind of emotionally shut down. it was a lot to take in, esp for her. she took him up on his offer because by that point she was desperate for everything she’d gone through to mean something.

54. How does their story end?

credits rolled on her sitting on the edge of the star city with jespar. while the credits rolled i was staring into the void thinking about my life. not sure if that’s canon, next playthrough i’m gonna do a hard save before the final decision point and see if catharsis leaves me feeling less empty inside.

55. Do they change over the course of the story? In what ways?

she becomes a lot more confident and sure of herself and even though she never stops being an optimist she learns to stop setting herself on fire to keep others warm.

56. Anything else you’d like to share about them?

she’s so cautiously positive because she was written as a foil to my shadowgod alessia, a textbook nihilist who only got worse after the events of nehrim.

57. Bonus: For you- what are you most excited for in Forgotten Stories?

VEILED WOMAN BACKSTORY

#this took me literally nine hours to finish #tbf one of those hours i was in class #enderal #uh. canon-typical triggering content within.

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hollywoodx4 · 7 years

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Sticking with the Schuylers (29)

(Expect slow updates this week-I’m just getting into a massive workload for my course, plus my birthday trip to NYC with my sister is THIS WEEKEND and then I have about 5,000 things to do when I get back from sherking all my responsibilities off. C’est la vie, right?)

But seriously, thank you for all of your love. It’s amazing and I appreciate it so much!

( @ellzabethschuyler it’s the weirdest thing I can tag you on my laptop just fine but whenever I’m answering things on mobile it gives me the hardest time)

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Phillip Schuyler is not a man of many words; not in conversations other than political debate. Even then he’d hang back, letting his collected tone of voice and fact-backed opinions make his argument for him. He’d spent much of his life attempting to placate two older brothers and a father that hadn’t accepted his lack of sport ability. Peace-making with a grouping of old white men was just about the same level of weary stress he’d dealt with in practiced reserve his entire life.

He wasn’t prepared for the level of conversation that came about with three daughters-three beautiful daughters who’d begun bringing boys home far sooner than he’d expected. And when the first prospective boyfriend did come to meet him-Jeremy Atkins, whose father was a surgeon and mother ran in the political circle as well-he hadn’t been as well-prepared as he’d liked. Phillip had lectured that fourteen year old boy until he was red in the face with embarrassment, keeping his head down to his shoes as Angelica looked on with the same mortification.

His tactics hadn’t been the best back then, when dating just meant a trip down to Serendipity for a frozen hot chocolate with two straws, coming back far before the sun would set with a hug in the doorway under his hard stare through the window.

It hadn’t been particularly difficult yet, either; Angelica had dated only Jeremy before she’d met John, and then although they’d had a father-daughter struggle within that relationship he’d always been a part of their family. It was with an unpleasant air that he’d accepted him, only after his doubts had circled into harsh exchanges and words that could never be taken back. Phillip was used to keeping calm but the fear of losing his daughter had driven him to a level of protective anger he’d never felt before.

Angelica left for a weekend when she was eighteen, a long-winded note left on the California King being the only knowledge he’d had of where she’d gone and why she’d done it. It was then that the severity of his words and the lack of others had become increasingly clear. Angelica had chosen John, even when Phillip had worked so hard to provide for his family. And so he’d taken stock of his actions, the entire weekend spent in suspension between worrying for his eldest daughter and wondering just how he’d be able to turn himself around. He wanted to make them happy.

Years after the theatrics between Angelica and John, Peggy had a few dates here and there. There was nothing she’d constituted serious enough for an introduction. That left only Eliza, the most gentle and demure of the three. She had brought nearly every potential suitor to her father, even when he had insisted it not absolutely necessary. She hated hiding things from him, even when the conversations were far too drawn out for a date to homecoming who’d chosen her as the only single member of her friend group. There was a necessity in it for her, where she’d discussed honesty and open conversation while Phillip nodded in understanding, telling Catherine she’d be the soundboard for all of those talks.

“She’s very mature,” He’d mentioned one night after another attempt at open conversation from their middle daughter. “What other sixteen year old would come to her parents about her first kiss?”

There were things he knew his daughters would keep from him, details he’d rather not hear. But for Eliza to be so upfront and honest about every aspect of her life was refreshing, especially between Angelica’s jaunt at eighteen and Peggy’s newfound freewheeling spirit at the same age. Eliza had always been a separate entity, between her more outspoken older sister and wild-natured younger. And even when she had met James Reynolds, and their relationship had progressed faster than Phillip would have liked, she was always cautious. There were moments of time where she’d come to visit alone and perch herself on the couch across from his armchair, eyes wide and waiting for him to look up from his work. And then she’d smile. He’d always been a sucker for her sweet and honest turn of lips and lift of cheeks, the expression that seemed to brighten the room no matter the circumstance. And no matter what she was asking, or talking about, it was with great difficulty that he ever said no to her.

Her honesty made it hard to say no.

Now, she wasn’t being honest.

Philip Schuyler sits in the parlor drinking a small cup of French press coffee when his wife comes from the kitchen with her hands folded neatly in front of her. Even from his place at the table on the opposite side of the room he can tell that she’s waiting to speak; hands fiddling with miniscule movements and breaths coming long and calculated. When he looks up at her fully she glides across the room to him, holding out her phone.

“Before you say anything I want you to take a breath and keep an open mind.”

“Okay…”

“And just…keep a level head.” Catherine is speaking in a tone so much like Eliza’s level-headed, gentle voice that he sits back in his chair, noting the similarity as he lets her words sink in. She’s attempting to calm him, to pacify him before showing him whatever it is she’s seen. Phillip is not sure he’s too happy about that notion. He follows his wife’s instructions anyway, nodding before taking the phone from her hand.

A picture of a man is the forefront of attention; hair long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail, facial hair slightly unkempt. He scans the picture first with curiosity, until Elizabeth’s Instagram name come into his line of vision. Then, he’s even more curious. There is a caption below the picture, a few short sentences to sum up the invasion. And then, his eyes shoot immediately back up to Catherine.

He can barely discern the feeling that’s found its way to the pit of his stomach. First there is anger, bubbling and rolling along in his veins at this face he’s never seen before-the first name he’s never heard, even in the multitude of passing conversation he’s had with Eliza. He’s unsure whether the anger is aimed at her or at this man; it seems to inhabit him in an even layer, festering without any direction to go. It’s accompanied by an upset, and a curiosity that takes over completely. The new feeling pushes his anger aside, to the pits of his stomach where it covers them almost completely. Instead of festering he is only slightly upset. Most of all, he needs answers.

Phillip looks up at his wife, who is watching the flickering of emotions on his face with patient readiness; a wonder of which reaction will settle dominant within him. Catherine is met with simple eyes and an even tone. Her husband asks if she can get his phone for him. The level of his placidity alarms her but she says nothing, taking careful steps to and from the kitchen where he had left his phone.

“Phillip,” Her voice comes out in a careful warning without having to say the words. The slight tilt of her head and lowering of eyes says enough. He shakes his head at her before pressing the phone to his ear.

“I’m just going to call her.”

…

The first day of a new week typically brought about a lot of things for Elizabeth Schuyler. First there was a renewed sense of optimism; of a hope in the chance to repeat a weekly routine over again. If there were changes she was often more than happy to implement them, embracing the possibilities that came about with a new step in her plan. Monday was a good day because although it meant the end of a weekend, there was always something to look forward to.

This Monday is particularly wonderful, she decides when her alarm goes off. The sun is not yet up, the room cast in the darkness of a bitter winter morning. December is not her favored month by any means but she would give up the beauty of the spring for the serenity of this moment without as much as a second thought.

Eliza shifts slightly, reaching one arm to her nightstand with careful precision to mute the blaring of her alarm. A glance at the time shows that she should probably be getting up soon. The barely audible chatter from beneath her quiets that notion in an instant. His lips are moving just slightly, enough to make incoherent words Alexander mumbles under the guise of a deep sleep. Half of her body is on top of his; legs slung over his legs, arms around his waist. And her head rests on his chest so peacefully that she can hear the thrumming of his heartbeat, the deep and gentle breaths that are an accessory to his sleep. Her alarm goes off again, a reminder to get her day in motion, and she groans. There is a movement underneath her, the shaking of Alexander’s silent laughter, and she lifts her head from his chest to frown at him.

“What?” She questions him as he opens his eyes, a hand finding the small of her back and pulling her to rest against him again.

“Your refusal to get out of bed-it’s cute.”

“Will it still be cute when I fail all of my classes because of you?”

“Can it still be considered my fault if you’re the one who slept on top of me the entire night?” She smirks then, shaking her head as sleep-mussed waves fall into the frame of her face. Eliza leans in, pressing her lips gently to his once, twice before casting her shining eyes on his. She reluctantly rolls out of bed, sitting on the edge before moving to the closet.

“Maybe I only slept on you to stop your sleep-talking. Do you always have so much to say?”

“Only when it’s a good sleep; trust me, I’ve never slept so peacefully in my life.”

It’s a truth that rings clear for both of them; Alex shifts in her plush queen bed, stretching his rested muscles and watching her move around the room. It has been so long since he’s felt this rested, eyes without their dark circles, a smile upon his face when greeted with a new day. There is no rush-no sense of concentrated anxiety rushing though him. There is only a simplistic sort of peace. His first class is in two hours so he’s taking his time, chatting with her while she bustles about, getting her things ready for the day. When she steps into the shower he turns the coffee on, a mug for her and a mug for him, and settles himself at the kitchen island with a copy of yesterday’s newspapers.

If the sight of Alexander first thing in the morning through sleepy eyes and tangled bodies wasn’t enough, there was this. He has one elbow propped on the counter, the other hand with his mug of steaming liquid pressed to his lips. His favored old t-shirt hangs loose around his body, soft cotton framing his relaxed posture. She grins. The picture of Alexander settled neatly at her counter, as if he’d been there his whole life, was enough to bring Eliza across the room to him. She settles her head behind him on his shoulder, arms wrapped light around his neck as her damp hair brushes against his cheek before her lips replace them.

He hands Eliza her coffee and she crosses the kitchen for something to eat, rifling through the cabinets. Alexander looks up at her in curiosity, watching her purposeful actions with contented silence. She has two bowls settled on the counter along with a plethora of ingredients, which she mixes without measuring before plopping spoonful after spoonful of pale batter onto a pan. The sizzling is not all that breaks the silence; Eliza’s humming through her work, dishes clattering in the sink and fingers drumming on the countertop. When she turns he’s still staring, mirrored grins on both of their lips as she notices. And then she’s sliding a plate over to him, pulling the newspaper from his grasp.

“Pancakes?” It’s half of a question, the way his voice is slightly inflected upon the surprise.

“Don’t get used to it.” Eliza winks before turning back to her work. The morning comes easy to her, when the sun is just beginning to show itself. Even through the snowy, damp winter it feels bright. She’s opened every curtain, even cracked a window in the bathroom to let some fresh air in. It’s all so much; the domesticity, that he rises from his chair to wrap his arms around her while she cooks the last of the batter. And then he’s peppering soft kisses on her neck, where he predicts her bell-like laughter before it has happened.

“Stop,” She wheels around to occupy his lips with her own, an act of defiance unable to go unnoticed. He moves in to reciprocate before he adds a slight tilt to his head, finding the soft skin below her ear.

“I have class in twenty minutes, I’d like to get there in one neatly represented piece and you know how difficult you’re making this.”

“Do I? I had no idea.”

She shakes her head, letting shower-dampened waves be invaded by his hands as she accepts her fate. There’s a realization not only that she’ll definitely be late, but that in no shape will she let herself regret it. There’s too much here, home, to give up for a lecture on child safety. Those thoughts go flying out the window as his hands are on her waist, pressing her up to the kitchen counter. The proximity is a much welcomed wake-up call, her brain becoming muddled with the sound of her name tickled against her ear in a gentle release of air from Alexander’s wandering lips.

That whispering is joined by a chirping, electronic and disruptive.

“Leave it,” He pleads as her body stiffens against his. But the ringing of her phone comes through a specific sound, set to only one phone number. She pulls away from him, nose crinkled and all desire suddenly dissipating as she shakes her head.

“It’s my father.”

He nods then, clearing his throat and smoothing his t-shirt out before trailing back to the island. He plops himself on the barstool with a certain hesitant air, as if Phillip Schuyler himself is able to see him through the ringing phone. Alexander’s eyes are cast back at the newspaper, any hint of concentration badly feigned as his ears zero in on their conversation.

“Elizabeth, sorry to bother you so early in the morning but your mother,”

“-Don’t drag me into this, Phillip.”

“I saw your wonderful post on your picture-sharing account this morning.”

She had known that this was coming, had thought about it as she’d closed her eyes last night with her head on Alexander’s chest. That photo, as kind and beautiful and protective as it was, would have reached thousands of people by now. The only foresight she’d forgotten was the one that included letting her father know about Alexander before the rest of the general public. Sure, she’d mentioned seeing someone new. But not once had she brought him over, or mentioned a name. In any aspect of the dating conversation she’d simply brushed it aside, heart racing, and moved on to a new topic.

With her father on the line she could not avoid the contradiction settling in her nerves any longer. Eliza had so desperately wanted to share her happiness with her parents; to let them meet Alexander, and see how good he was. But then there was the crossing thought of her father, tight-lipped and stoic, possibly being unaccepting. Throughout her life she had known him as loving, and kind, but to his family. In the real world, in front of his friends and the company they kept at brunch, there was a boundless need to share each opinion with unfiltered pride that seemed to fester inside of Phillip Schuyler with no sign of disappearing. And that huge opinion, the constant inability to see the grey areas within an argument…there was a red flag in weighing the differences between Alexander and her father. While she loved her father’s consistent opinions she treasured Alexander’s swift arguments, backed by changing facts and an ability to switch sides with a compelling opposing statement. And if the choice was presented, she knew she’d make the same choice that Angelica had made all those years ago. Eliza didn’t want to do that to her father again. Avoiding the subject was easier.

“I’m so sorry about that, dad. There was somebody who was bothering me, and Alexander wasn’t too happy about it, so it kind of just happened. I promise you I was going to tell you soon.”

“How soon, Elizabeth? How long have you been seeing this person without saying so much as one word to me or your mother?”

“Almost four months.” Her voice is squeaking now, soft and reserved as she envisions the hardened expression he’d be holding by now. He was probably on the other side of the phone pacing, making a case for himself.

Instead, she hears a collected sigh; a whisper muffled by what she supposes is his finger covering the receiver. There’s a pause, lengthened by the heightened anxiety that’s begun to take over. Alexander watches her lean on the counter with a hand on her mug, tapping and tracing until finally he’s pulling it away from her, holding her hand in his instead.

It’s alright, he mouths the words to Eliza as her eyes raise to meet his.

“Elizabeth,” She can barely hear her father’s words, only his tone. He’s not angry-deciphering his timbre she decides he’s not being terse or quick with her. He’s careful, as if he knows the wrong words will hurt her feelings.

“I’m bringing Alexander to brunch this week.” It had already been decided, but when she interrupts her father’s words with her own the weight of the situation sits heavily on her shoulders. She’s excited, yes, but the nerves of the two parties meeting nearly drowns that anticipation completely.

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Elizabeth,” Phillip stops-looks at his wife for support. She nods, a smile of reassurance on her beautifully made features upon the way he’s handled himself. He clears his throat. “I want nothing but happiness for you.”

“I know.”

When she hangs up the phone she falls into Alexander’s support, hugging him before grabbing her bag to head out the door. Checking the time, she realizes she will in fact be late for her class-just not for the reasons she’d hoped. The anxious anticipation for Sunday brunch sits heavy in her stomach as she begins to count down the days to Alexander meeting her father.

#hamliza #hamilton au #mine: SWTS #I mean #I could write domestic hamliza for the rest of my days #isn't that what we're all here for anyway #but eliza never has it that easy #my poor cinnamon roll

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