CROWNED IN BLOOD.

“I heard a dark prediction rising in my own body.”

Complacent he says. complacent. Oh, well, now that just makes Phainon want to act like that. Because if his dear god-king is going to make such a comparison, wouldn't it be only fitting for the fool to grant the very thing his king is challenging of him? The way his lips curl upwards in a knowing smile, and the way his tone has a teasing lit in it when he speaks, "Oh, my dear Mydeimos, you have me mistaken. I am not here to be complacent, as you claim. I am simply here because I have somewhere I wish to go with you." his hands easily come to rest behind his own back, grasped together and between his own hold as he rocks backwards once on his heels ( and if his eyes flickered downwards once, well, nobody saw that and he would deny it ).

Well, their dear Deliverer certainly knows how to land a punch when he aims for the right target. Any mention of food of course stirs the God-king's interest, because if there was anything he refused to shed before the very skin off of his back, it was the culinary arts. When one cooked with care, a single proper meal could rally louder than a hundred armies. Of course, good upkeep with oneself was the essential other half to the ideal whole. Besides, he's already deemed early mornings here perfectly fit for a healthy routine, discarding the towel over am armrest of the couch before briefly disappearing into his room to fetch some form of proper upper covering-or so he's heard others whisper.

( ⚜ ) 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐆 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 THAT GRACES HER FACE WHEN he comes into her peripheral vision. Almost as if she knew that he would make an appearance here as well, without actually knowing whether or not he actually would come to this too. But when she thinks back to the other festivals and holidays, he's also been there, and some how always finds away beside her, at one point or another. The small friendship blooming between them with each season changing. So when he does arrive to this event as well, to actually see him, brings her this sense of consistency, of repetition, of familiar, of comforting. Its not like she herself made the effort to invite him ( her nerves wouldn't let her do such an act first, but the messages are drafted on her phone as proof that she did attempt ), but the moment she sees him, his presence becomes like a balm for her in these over crowded holiday festivities. Her inner nerves and fears subside away, and she's left feeling a moment of peace. As if he has become a weighted blanket, without being exactly that.

Huh, now there's a face he hasn't seen since they played at making charm bracelets together.

Standing just a ways away from the entrance that leads to the universities fall festival, Phainon stands off to the side, watching the number of people entering into the faire grounds increase. Blue eyes steadily watching as the crowds of families, friends, dates all enter inside the gates. Their wide smiles that become illuminate so brightly beneath that last golden rays of the setting sun, its warmth slowly fading away with each ticking minute as the sounds of laughter, amicable chatter, and gleeful screams all blend harmoniously together. He's both excited and nervous to be here currently. Excitement because its time spent with Mydie, which is already one of his favorite things to do ( even though he's fully aware that he is the one whose built the distance between them. The lack of effort on his side to reach out more, than just the one impromptu date he took the other on, that day ). And being able to play faire games and compete each other, being able to do something together that's both familiar and nostalgic - this is something that Phainon believes is exactly what the both of them might actually need right now. A bit normalcy. at least, its whats phainon needs.

Colors sway with the vibrancy of changing seasons, yellows melting into blazing oranges that come to settle like the last of a fading sunset in smoldering reds. The air is ripe with celebration and spice, stalls lining the streets with an abundance of commotion between children and parents ushering themselves from one busy venue to another. It is still as much of a time to honor the dead as any. Vividly does he recall such moments shared between himself and those once called his closest kin, the clink of battle worn armor and hard-won tales that inevitably follow none too far at worn heels. Perhaps he might pay his own respects later... for now, of course, it has been decided by none other than their Deliverer that his day became occupied first and foremost with other plans.

Family is strong in blood be it spilled or passed in generations to come.

"Haha... well, I've been famous for my cooking for far longer than I've been a strategist, if that tells you anything," the Foxian replied with a slight smirk on his lips, that expression of perpetual light amusement that he so often wore, where one could hardly tell if he was laughing at them or simply entertained by some internal bit of humor-- and Jiaoqiu, of course, would never tell either.

At first glance, the prince picks up a few key takeaways from the dish without even tasting. Although likely appearing to judge unfairly from the immovable harshness of his gaze, a gauntlet clad hand extends in request.

"Heh, and they say most monsters are born as men. Where's the appeal then?"

The   silence   stretches   between   them,   not   awkward,   but   lived-in   like   the   calm   that   follows   cannon   fire,   heavy   with   what   was   lost   and   what   still   claws   its   way   forward.    A   low   hum   rises   in   his   throat,   the   kind   that   comes   not   from   amusement,   but   from   understanding.   A   slow   nod   follows,   deliberate,   like   a   promise   being   carved   into   the   bark   of   an   old   tree.

A rare soul indeed.

"MYDEI!" boundaries? what's that? Such notions don't exist for the man who is basically the embodiment of the sun as he's already busted through the very door that blocks him from the lion he is seeking after. Doors have never prevented him before from gathering the man whenever he's sought him out prior, why would they stop him again this time, in this world? "Dei?" he calls aloud again, looking around the living room of the other's apartment. Taking in the small details that's been collected here to make it more personalize. The man himself may have no boundaries when it comes to knocking on his door, but he's at least respectful enough to not go further into the space other than the living room, staying put, until the man of his eye decides to grace him with his presence.

Good thing he rises well before the sun in both his own world and any next. Mydei suspects his roommate would have their own stance on such a disturbing notion as the man bursting through the front door held no semblance of regard to personal space or thoughts for how his carelessness may be perceived by others. He might be grateful then, that his roommate is currently nowhere to be found, or perhaps too far gone to the sea of slumber to have somehow woken.

"Good to know I can't leave you alone for five minutes, Deliverer."

33,550,336 cycles. No, this would now be considered 33,550,337th cycle this time. 33,550,337 cycles, and in all of them, he always ends up meeting the crown prince of Kremnos. Was it fate, or just bound by prophies that they're meant to always meet? The only difference this time though was that, this time, he had all the memories living front and center within his mind. He has every single memory that was shared between the both of them, spread out through all those cycles. The memories of what every single Phainon, Khaslana, had to endure. What they experienced together, the battles, the sparring matches, the shared meals, and how their endings happened ( always, always, by his own hand ). So how to do you approach that same person, sharing that same face and name, and try to start over again?

The haze of cheers that settles thickly within the bar reminds him of his old comrades.