That night I met Reinhart was otherwise unremarkable. It was a little cold, a little frosty. Spring was close. I don’t know how exactly I knew but I did. It is just the sort of knowledge that lives in your bones, I guess. I was a winter child, well at ease in the cold and the snow, and I did not look forward to the change in seasons. I did not look forward to time’s passage at all, but time cared little for my will.
My family's eminent departure hung heavy on my shoulders. With each second that passed, I felt guiltier and guiltier. I knew I should be making the most of the time I had; after all I really might never see them again, once they set sail.
But all I could do was waste time. As though if I tried hard enough, I could burn right through it, straight to the day they returned to me, triumphant and safe and happy to be home. I know, I already said time cared little for my will. I know it now, and I knew it then.
But I was a damn stubborn little girl.
Anyway, I don’t remember the specifics of how we met. The way the light fell, the feeling of the familiar streets beneath my feet, the distant noise of people buying, selling, laughing, dancing. I just remember it was a new moon, and the night was young, and I found an earring in the trampled snow. I had been following a quiet alley to the marketplace when the flash of gold had caught my eye. It was a simple piece, but pretty. A green stone dangling on a golden loop, simple but elegant. It would perfectly fit my style, if I had any interest in cultivating such a thing. There was only one on the ground.
The tracks in the snow seemed fresh, so I hurried my pace. It would fetch a pretty penny at the markets, but I was more concerned with returning it to its owner. When I got closer to the dark shape in front of me, moving fast, I called out in a voice that sounded older than I was: “Hey, you!”
They paused. I think they did not want to turn and face me, but after a moment of deliberation they did.
It was not a they. It was a boy. He was older than me, but still a boy. I could tell by the hunch of his shoulders and the look in his eye, the look all boys have. I probably should have recognized him instantly as a noble son, but I had inherited a dislike of social events and a downlike disdain for the wealthy. I kept to myself, my family, and our small social circle.
I stared too long at him before asking “is this yours?” The earring hung in the still air between us. It dangled in the light of a distant fire, but I missed the way the light glinted off it like sparks of sunlight. I was solemn. All snow and slate. I did not for one second break my gaze with the stranger.
Hey you! Feminine vocals commanded from behind him. Reinhart swiveled his ears in response to her words, but he was hesitant to turn and face her. With great reluctance, he finally turned and faced the familiar face of the Sovereign's daughter. Aspara. A spike of panic shot through the thief, he waited for her to recognize him. Reinhart studied her expression tirelessly, but he found no trace of recognition in her features. She did not recall that day so long ago as he did. She was younger then. The golden earring with an emerald he'd swiped from one of the merchants in the night market dangled in the air between them. Is this yours? He wasn't careful enough. Aspara was not suspicious of the boy with disheveled hair, and lopsided grin. Reinhart pulled the other earring from the burlap he had thrown around his shoulders to blend in with the street urchins.
He saw the twinkle in her eye as she admired the earring. It was a pretty thing. Elegant. Even something his family might approve of. His grin did not vanish as he extended his muzzle and offered the other earring to her. Reinhart's gaze smoldered with mischief, his body was attentive. He was on high alert, but he played it off as though he were simply doting on his companion. "They were. They might fit you better. Buyer's remorse you might say. It's good to see you out and about in public Aspara. How are your mother and father? Your sisters?" The words flowed from his soot-stained lips like warm honey.
Reinhart did not want Aspara to recognize him, not until he was long gone with the other trinkets he'd swiped. He'd tucked golden chains carefully inside the folds of the makeshift burlap shawl draped across his shoulders. His magic flickered like fire towards her. It was hungry and wholly devoted to the whims and desires of the noble son. It pressed towards her, trying to encourage a sense of agreeability in the young woman. Reinhart remained oblivious to his magic as it worked. His eyes simply danced, and the atmosphere around them changed into something more awesome than before. As though stars twinkled between them. As if stars could hang in suspension so low. Caligo did not love Denocte that much.
His oil can grin slithered across his face again, he canted his head so slightly. "You've all grown so quickly. Denocte hasn't had time to hold its breath. When is your birthday again? I am so lucky to have a chance to speak with a royal daughter! Imagine a lowly street urchin having a conversation with one of the princesses. What a lucky day." He warbled, as though this was the highlight of his day, and not the largest moment of panic he'd experienced in a while.
Notes: Aspara is lovely! I'm so excited to write with you again <3| Words: 471 | Tags: @Aspara
... try to breathe words out, But I’ve got nothing to say
01-23-2020, 06:11 PM
Played by
Rae [PM] Posts: 118 — Threads: 19 Signos: 20
He talked a lot. A lot a lot. I wished Avesta was there; she’d shut him up in an instant. With a single raging glare, or maybe a gesture of her wild horn. I was much more gracious, to my despair. Too polite to cut him off. “N-no thank you.” I almost blushed. “I don’t wear such things.” It was… too much for me. I didn’t want to attract attention, I wanted to avoid it.
When I tried to float the earring closer to him, insisting that he take it, the small trinket squirmed in my grasp. A small frown tickled the corner of my lips. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the thing didn’t want to go with the boy. But why wouldn’t it want to be in the hands of its owner?
I began to draw the earring closer to me. I’m sure I could coax its story with a flex of my magic. But before I could press it to my skin I was distracted by the gleaming look in his eyes. There were-- how do I explain it?-- there were shadows moving behind his face. I wanted to open him up like a book. Read him in the blink of an eye, like father would. Instead I was left with my wits, which seemed suddenly poorly lacking.
“Have we met before?” I would have remembered him, wouldn’t I? I took a closer look at his face. Lanterns from the street behind him cast him in a warm glow. And starlight (was there always this much of it? The snow, it glittered like galaxies in the night sky. For a second it consumed me-- I wanted to reach out, touch it, throw it in the air)-- starlight lit his features in a way that was quite… alluring, I guess is the word for it.
No, I did not recognize him. If we had ever met, I must have forgotten the incident. How silly of me.
Furfur bristled at my side. I had almost forgotten about him. I leaned gently into him. His entire body was electric with tension. It was comforting.
When the boy's monologue was over, I didn't know where to start. “Do you always talk this much?” I wanted the words to bite, but I… I found the edge was leaving me. It was a very curious sensation. Like me, the real me, was trapped somewhere, pounding on the door. I could hear her pounding, and I could taste the fear on her tongue, and I could feel the grip that tightened on her throat, keeping her from speaking. But I also… did not care. I was bewitched by those orange eyes, which made my limbs feel like leaves poised to scatter in the breeze.
(Later I would be so angry at myself. What was wrong with me?! One smouldering look and I had been rendered to butter. By a boy!)
“Our birthday was three days ago.” I finally answered his question. “And don’t call me a princess.” I viciously fought the girl inside my skin. “Please.” I had won, but just barely. The word came out like a spit tooth. I frowned, and it felt like my mind was struggling deeply with a problem that should be simple. He had said he was an urchin. But he didn’t look hungry, or dirty, or poor. In fact, he made being an urchin seem downright romantic. I wanted to roam the streets like he must do, completely and utterly free. I wanted to go where no one knew my name. Give away jewelry. Smoulder like that, like everything came easy.
Something funny was going on, and I wanted to scream. Instead I stepped forward, and I asked uncertainly: “Are… are you hungry?”
@Reinhart this is going to be a good thread. I feel it in my bones <3<3
Words bubbled from Aspara's pale lips. N-No thank you. I don't wear such things. They started with a stutter but ended with the confidence of a weathered diplomat. Her refusal of the earring allowed him to ease his offering a bit. The one she held was still hovering close to her, but the hesitation that escaped her lips was obvious. "Ah, well it is only an offer. You needn't agree nor accept anything you don't want to you know." His eyes swirled and danced in the dim light of the lanterns. Reinhart would take the earring back if Aspara truly did not want the pair, even if they would look lovely on her pale frame. He was aware of her scrutiny, and he remained calm beneath her gaze. Reinhart squirmed beneath his skin, her attempt at deciphering his identity had made him uncomfortable. Nothing about being a thief was comfortable. His magic trickled out quicker, with more urgency as his panic rose. His smoothe smile appeared in response to her question, and his tongue took yet another bath in liquid silver. "I would only be so lucky to have met you twice, Aspara. I don't believe we have. Perhaps we have passed each other on the streets but we have never shared a passing word before. It is hard to remain oblivious to the daughter of the Sovereign you know."
Reinhart lied quickly, it was a believable lie. Her scrutiny faded after a few moments, and the tension in his shoulders dropped. Parts of his body relaxed, some even twitched to show excitement. Reinhart recognized her confusion, her search for an answer. He noticed her resolve shortly after studying him like a piece of fine art. The wolf at her side remained uneasy, but he had never been good with canines. He liked them, admired them even. There was something just too wild about them for Reinhart's liking. Her next question caught him off guard, and a laugh still managed to escape his throat. Do you always talk this much? It was truly a funny thing to ask someone. He tried to appear nervous, his magic ever coiling around Aspara. The oblivious magician. There should have been a dagger hidden in her words, but it failed. Reinhart found this curious. "I uh, have a bit of a nervous habit you see. Plagued me since my childhood really. Sometimes it feels like if I don't fill the silence, well something terrible might happen. Of course, nothing has ever happened, but you never know." The words flowed like honey once more, they were as quick as before.
He watched her throat constrict and tense like a snake. Reinhart was attentive; observant; clever. Our birthday was three days ago. And don't call me a princess. Please. Aspara bared the teeth of her personality at him like a hungry wolf. "Oh, It is too bad that I don't get a chance to wish you a happy birthday on the day of your birth. Happy belated birthday, Aspara. Don't worry there, I won't call you a princess again. It's a formality you know. Mother always said to address the Sovereign's family with a high amount of respect. You didn't question my mother. She was always right, always knew best. Hard to get rid of childhood habits. Very hard." The words sounded just right to him, but he wondered if he was reading their encounter as well as he thought he was. Oh, how his lies sounded as though they were made of gold.
Reinhart took so many stories from the streets. He caught snippets of conversation from strangers passing by to make his lies more believable. Reinhart didn't sound like a noble son. There was no lilt or elegance to the way he spoke. The words were awkwardly syncopated as if the words he that fell from his mouth were wrong. They weren't. Reinhart didn't believe that they were. Are... are you hungry? Aspara caught him off guard again, and his gaze softened slightly. He was not hungry, he had no want of food. He would not turn down free food though. Reinhart thought of the children who truly belonged to the street urchins. They were hungry. Ravenous. Starved. "It would be very hard to turn down an offer from you, Aspara. I could always eat. There are times you don't know when your next meal will be." Reinhart spoke with genuine honesty for the first time in their conversation. He did not let his guard down, he couldn't. A thief couldn't be caught red-handed. He was going to be ready to run on short notice.
"They call me Ezra out here. That's not the name my mama gave me, but it suits me just fine." He whispered to her, his smoldering gaze never left her porcelain face.
Notes: This is going to be so much fun.| Words: 803 | Tags: @Aspara
... try to breathe words out, But I’ve got nothing to say
01-24-2020, 10:30 PM
Played by
Rae [PM] Posts: 118 — Threads: 19 Signos: 20
I did not like the way he talked so much, like he was hiding a secret message beneath all those words, but it was not a pleasant or beautiful secret. There was something sour that fermented behind all that distraction. I could smell it, like a wolf does a wounded deer.
I did not like the way he made me feel looked at. Worse was the way he made me feel for the very first time in my life that I wanted to be looked at.
Yet despite my intense dislike of him, I could not tear myself away. In the moment, I attributed it to the fascination with someone just slightly older than me. I was admittedly impressed with how sure of himself he seemed; maybe it was due to his life on the streets (as he claimed), which hardened and wisened him faster than my comfortable life did me. But I hoped it was just age, and thus something I could look forward to embodying in just a few seasons more. I wanted his confidence, and his edge, and his fire.
Fire that was in that moment directed at me, which make no mistake I was keenly aware of. It drew me in, like a moth and also an idiot. Later, after we parted ways, I would cringe as I played and replayed every single painful second of that encounter.
I tossed the earring back at him with a shrug. “Keep it.” I said, more forcefully than my first rejection, hoping he would shut up about it already.
As he talked, and talked, and talked, (such a bounty of words! A shame they were mostly empty. Shiny, pretty things that would crumble to dust at the slightest breeze.) I mostly just nodded curtly and stared and leaned in slightly. Furfur at my side was wary but puzzled, I think he too did not know what to make of this strange boy and his many words. His warm, soft touch at my foreleg seemed to be the only thing keeping me from floating away like one of those paper lanterns with the candles in it.
“Well, you don’t have to use formalities with us.” The ‘us’ I referred to was my entire family: me, sister, mother, father. I had spent such a vast majority of my time with my family unit, it did not occur to me I should define whom I spoke of. They were an extension of me, or me an extension of them. “We don’t care about any of that.” I actively rejected whatever expectations I sensed society had of me.
“My mom’s always right, too,” I confided in him softly. “It must be a mom thing.” I rolled my eyes. I wanted to add “it’s a hundred times worse when she’s a queen,” but I absolutely hated to remind anyone of my status.
There was something different in his voice when he accepted my offer of food. Something... genuine? But I had not found the rest of his rambling statements to be feigned, so I don't know what the difference was. I shrugged it off. “Come on, then, Ezra.” I stepped forward and past him, down the quiet alley and into the more crowded street. I absolutely hated the way my heart raced when we almost brushed shoulders in the narrow alleyway; I was very careful to not look at him, mostly because I was afraid he would see how vulnerable I was. It seemed like the worst thing in the world would be to know what effect he had on me, although I had the withering feeling he already suspected it.
Although-- my pounding heart wondered-- maybe I wanted him to see. I don’t know. I seemed to want two very different things at the same time, and all that wanting was terribly uncomfortable. All at once I wanted to be alone but I deeply, desperately did not want to leave.
I ducked lithely among the crowded streets and dipped through shortcuts most didn’t know of. I did not technically grow up on the streets, but I knew them almost as intimately as if I did. Naturally, as competitive as I was, I set a fast pace and kept a careful eye over my shoulder at the boy who called himself Ezra. Darting around as quickly as we did, it was difficult to keep a conversation. A blessing for my tired ears. “Do you like Halversons?” I grunted as we dodged a group of wide-eyed Terrastellan ladies. They reeked of perfume that made me nauseous, but they were admittedly quite pretty with their colorful scarves and bronze-worked jewelry. I shot a casual glance at Ezra to see if they caught his attention. (Again, I was acting a complete buffoon, and later would scold myself for every stupid, whimsy, ridiculous thought and feeling that crossed my mind.)
My question was more or less rhetorical. Halverson and Daughters (formerly Halverson and Sons but renamed when Halverson junior only sired fillies), known simply as Halversons was literally loved by everyone. I hadn’t met a single soul who didn’t like the neighborhood bakery. So I drove us onward, closer and closer to the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked sweet bread.
