DIGGER, LISTENER, RUNNER
PRINCE WITH THE SWIFT WARNING
PRINCE WITH THE SWIFT WARNING
He never wore gold. It wasn’t their custom. But he wore the casual loftiness on his body like a mantel and diadem, all the same. He treated the under-warren like his playground—places he could seize like a brash admiral, landing as an invader on wary shores. They could do naught but watch as he and his troops laid waste to their peace. They took what they wanted. They loped circles around daughters, swearing up and down that they would be theirs one day.
Like a storm,they came.
Like a storm, they left.
He had never taken his nobility seriously enough to reflect on it now, as she does her own. Maybe one day. He watches her face, scarred and bronze—the sorrow and fume that passes over her do not elude him. He too is surprisingly observant, for someone who seems so centered on the self. They are sharing secrets, the two of them. Except, both are stashing these subtle, weighty things in places meant for later consideration. Max’s protectiveness over his morose trinket—she had noticed that like a wolf, licking its chops for a meal. Something to pick at later.
He sees that something shades her; pursues her through Time and desert. Though he has the handicap of not knowing what it is, it is enough to know there is something under that sun-tempered armour. Something to find.
It’s not all as menacing as it may sound.
Maximus is as fickle as the wind—his brother used to say he was like a man with two duelling spirits sat upon his shoulder. Angel and devil, as it were. He walks a razor's edge between himself. To sympathize and commune, sharing empathy like a feast for souls; to pry and let loose the guts of remorse, or love, or hate, so that he may finger through them at his leisure.
He likes Bex, and he is wary that they are far too much alike. He raises an eyebrow at her impish smile, at the way she challenges him onwards. Another thing about the deposed prince—he never turns down a dare; he never shies away from a game. “Well,” he watches her turn, quick as a sandcat, and takes his own limber step forward, tail flicking side to side, “death can always wait.” (He had cheated it before,) “Onwards.”
/did you wanna continue over at the Day Court I meant Solterra?
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