* 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙝

"About time," he feels inclined to agree. Most of the guest, his spouse and children, had already called it a night, white Eirik had decided to stay behind. Certainly not because he wished to continue engaging in conversation with near strangers, but the opposite. As the room began to empty, a comforting silence began taking over it as well. "I wonder, if I was seen stumbling through the hallways at night, whether people would think I had a good evening, or the opposite," the regent muses, as he reaches for one of the bottles left by the service and pours himself a glass. "Fortunately, I can still handle my alcohol, because I could indeed use a drink."

Faolan tipped his head backwards, looking up to the ceiling, filled with relief. "I wonder," he muttered, mimicking the speech pattern of the regent, "how people never get tired of this." Since he'd been forcibly removed from the court as a young child, he'd never grown back the resistance needed to handle a crowd of nobles. It used to make his skin crawl, panic up his throat like a vice. Now, it merely left him exhausted like nothing else. He learned to brush that under the rug, for the sake of his people.

Faolan only had a tolerance for such events because of the music and the dance. It was all still a political play, a heavy-handed show of appearances, but it disguised itself better. It simultaneously allowed for Faolan to avoid small talk. Therefore, it was the smallest of all evils. The voice of Isra caught the king off-guard. It always gave him some sort of déjà-vu, as if he was in the immediate vicinity of risk. He breathed out, once, twice. "I have the program with me, if you wish to read it," it was the quickest reply he could muster, even managing to smile at the lady. He was being polite, as he was trained to do, and very light on his feet. "I have to agree with you, however. It has been an extraordinary show until now."

Once Faolan realized it was Felix by his side, a bright smile lodged itself in his mouth. The High King of Scotland didn't have many friends, but it was easy to tell when he was particularly fond of someone: his emotions weren't well trained in that regard. His arm quickly hugged the Spanish prince closer, patting them over the shoulder. "Dear Felix!" he greeted, bringing the younger royal closer. "I am so pleased to see you!" those were rare words for Faolan, so they rang true. He laughed in a hushed tone, eyeing Felix as to determine how much alcohol they'd ingested. "Well, I enjoy when you're loudly professing your thoughts," Faolan replied, although he wouldn't wish to see Felix in any sort of trouble. "But, alas, you don't need to drink any more, if you do not wish to. Have you enjoyed your night?"

who: @iragnidei; @ofseraphs not a group thread where: Spring's end evening concert 

Faolan had a higher tolerance to royal events that provided enough art to appease his brain. It was easier to ignore the constant white noise, the empty conversations and silent threats. It also made it much easier to forget he shouldn't be present at all. It took him a few moments to follow the cue to clap, mind still entranced by the music. Faolan looked younger, then: starry-eyed and mystified.

𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 — sahari & ( accepting 0/3 )

Faolan never expected to be spoken to, even after the years he was forced to spend in the shadows had gone by. He proceeded to offer an awkward half-smile to the queen, partially out of politeness and entirely out of appreciation for her pure contentment. It was hard to discover people who still were capable of joy, and Faolan could give credit to where it was due. "Very beautiful, indeed," he replied vaguely, observing the thousands of butterflies that made their path through their presence. "No apologies needed, I assure you. It is a blessing to be so full of love," Faolan couldn't be sure of why he'd say such thing, but he was not one who took back his own words. "I understand the sentiment. But, perhaps, the scarcity of such event is what makes it so dear to you."

Faolan had perhaps danced once, if at all. He couldn't quite remember the face of his partner, nor did he wish to. At least, the crowd he had to face was smaller than usual, and the excitement that commanded every ball often allowed for escapades. Everyone was always too busy with their own prospects, and the royal was grateful for it. He shrugged off his coat, loosening his silk bow-tie, only mildly surprised when the voice of a young woman reached his ears.

open starter ›› ft. parvati sharma. when: during the butterfly migration status: accepting replies

Faolan would usually not be caught dead in places so full. He had a deep, well-known aversion for crowds, and much preferred to be far away from where the people were. He was forced to attend to his royal duties by his own acute sense of responsibility, but the butterfly migration couldn't be considered an obligation by any means. Instead, it was one of his personal enjoyments; an enchantment so strong with nature that made him ignore all honey-eyed couples. He had his notebook in hand, sketching a few of the specimen he caught glimpses of. A rare smile appeared once he could draw a majestic butterfly, who seemed too enthralled by the hands in which it had landed to fly away. "Very," he muttered, sounding astonished. "Would you happen to know any more about it?" he finally looked up to the young woman, bowing his head to her as a general sign of politeness.

° • — OPEN starter ( 2/4 ) ° • — in the gardens, during china's banquet.

Even though Faolan was the eldest of his house, he wasn't the one primed for attendances of big events. He had been, until his siblings were born — and, then, he was swiftly delegated to affairs of discreet nature. Therefore, with time, he became averse to participating in them. China's banquet was much the same in his head: he was forced to attend but, as soon as he found an opportunity to quit the filled rooms, he did so.