[P] golden child; lion boy

[Vercingtorix]

fearless child, broken boy, tell me what it's like to burn

The young man approaches with no attempt to guise his steps through the underbrush. But then again, why would he? 

It’s his land.

Vercingtorix, however, does not know this. He merely raises his eyes in surprise to see the gilded prince approach. He is Solterran, through and through, and everything Torix knows thus far of the Mors. Radiant, shining, gold. 

Hot.

The last thought comes, almost unbidden. But Vercingtorix has always liked the look of soft things; and he knows nothing softer than princes, then things that look rich.

So he smiles as radiantly as Adonai. “Guilty as charged. You people sure find ways to point out foreigners.”

To not know that the well water is cursed. 

Oh, sweet boy. Oh, innocent prince. 

He is already cursed. But Torix only smiles a little wider. “I don’t believe in such wives’ tales.” There is something thick—like bedroom poetry, like waking up to hair disheveled—in his voice, when he adds: “Do you?”

Unceremoniously, he tosses the bucket of water over his head. 

If it’s cursed, he might as well perform a baptism in it. The water drips from him, and steals the heat, and Torix stands in a bed of blue daisy.

He nearly looks chaste, when he turns his dripping lashes back to Adonai and offers, 
"Want some?" 


“speech” || @Adonai || setting inspired by this image

❂ | ❂