BARBED ROSE

Light had been leached from these hallowed halls. Wild things were born and decided to stir little quakes in the castle at its very foundation. The weight of the fearful world now gnawed at shaking, fragile bodies. It infuriated as much as it paralyzed. It led many to finding hope in a perfidious man. In the distance stood a den of cretins. It burns brightly in the night as the flames swell to a new height. It has become the light drawing all in its warm embrace. A shitshow, if he ever saw one. So he gave them just a little taste of what they’ve brought forth. It was a reminder, if you will. And the reminder is this: while they envision themselves as kings among men they are still frail, feeble, and at the mercy of true saints. Displaying such a reminder left this look on him. A chin up and out sort of look. It remained there as he walked to the pools, quietly stripped himself of his clothes aside from swimming trunks, and plopped down behind her. His legs settled next to either side of her while arms planted firmly against the marble floor behind him, tipping his head back with an inflated sigh. “Come ooon. Seriously? You already heard about that. Look, Alice started it.”

It was incredible to what lengths someone would go for power; hungry to grasp any taste their fingers could touch, that they were able to taste. But whilst she had watched the people about her change in order to go further into gaining further powers, she instead had shrunk to the shadows — fearing what this meant for herself and her close friends. And whilst she had danced with the notion of being able to erase her own powers, she had overcome so much in order to gain them; and it almost seemed that all of it was for nothing if she were to give it all up. Perhaps she didn’t know who she would be without them, and perhaps it was somewhat of a security blanket. But these thoughts began to drift away as she recognised the warmth of the one that had entered, leaning back into his grasp as he settled behind her. Glancing backwards to smirk lightly at his words, she began to laugh at the pettiness of his statement, knowing that his rivalry with the other made him rather amusing. “Now, now. Why don’t you start at the very beginning?” She replied, knowing he was more than likely just blaming Alice out of convenience rather than truly explaining himself.

A nervous look upon her features, Mina had only entered this specific location to look for one person in particular. She had heard the rumours of the young princess remaining here despite the chaos happening within the Palace. And although her duty was firstly always towards her Prince Royce; she had concerns for Emilia and her safety, which was why she had entered Inferno, hoping that it wasn’t too late. Her eyes flickering over the various occupants within the bar she began to move through the crowd, her powers trying to identify the princess’s specific thoughts that she had become to be accustomed to. As she began to hear the faint voice appearing from the corner, she moved directly towards the source, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips as she commented, “I’m glad you’re safe Princess Emilia, I was worried, as is the rest of the royal family.”

Her feet draped over the edge over the pool, her toes began to dip into the liquid as Mina thought over the tumultuous events over the past few days. She couldn’t deny her slight apprehension over the developments, especially when there was such a simple solution to all her fears. Despite her original trepidation over utilising her powers, did she want to erase them or did she want to keep them now that they were such integral part of her being — having overcome so much in order to gain them? A sharp sigh escaping her lips, her thoughts drifted towards how she had heard what had happened in Inferno, and the news of the power hungry Saints — wanting to gain a further power. Her lips pursed, she wondered how exactly they had ended up at this point, from the appearance of Bellamy Delacroix to the new being; Violette who apparently was the Light. However as these thoughts continued to circulate in her mind, she began to hear a pair of light footsteps begin to near her despite no other thoughts appearing in her mind, but her own. A small smile appearing upon her lips as she realised who exactly it was, she began to remark, “You just had to start a fight didn’t you?” 

Her voice, spoken so softly and lowly, is a gift for his ears alone and it it is filled with such sorrow. His own pain is being reflected back towards him; she who knows all absorbing his very thoughts and taking it on as her own. It strikes a shiver along his spine, a sharp breath taken while arms wrapped around her waist tighten till they become steel; holding as if letting go meant losing his last grip on reality. “Please…don’t.” Don’t what? Don’t shoulder the weight of his agony? Don’t shed the same tears that he does? Don’t comfort the guy who is to blame? His fingers dig into the fabric of her shirt, threatening to tear, while he shakes his head against her shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t deserve that, or your tears.” His voice is almost swallowed up entirely by the shoulder his head is buried into. He turns his head to the right so his cheek now rests there and he can be sure she hears what he says next. “… And you know that. You know what happened is my fault.” He screws his eyes shut then and his grip loosens ever so slightly. “No amount of dreaming can alter the reality. It’s all my fault.”

How she ached, sharp jolts of pain arising as she heard his pleas, shaking her head at his request, her heart wishing that there was anything she could do to remove his pains. She could feel it all, her powers overwhelmed by the tumultuous feelings that arose in such a topic like this, as she heard his mental cries; begging for some release from what she knew that he felt, especially when it cried out for what was lost. Her fingers interlocking together as he drew her closer to himself, she rested her head briefly against his own as she shook her head firmly at his pleas, replying simply, “I am sorry. And you do deserve that and so much more.” He had been so strong for her always, and now it was her turn to anchor him like he had for her before, her embrace letting him bury himself into her shoulder as her fingers ruffling through his hair, as she let him continue before her eyes flashing and voice turning to steel at his reply. “This is not your fault Joel Duncan. You are so strong for what you did. Otherwise Sofia would be ever changed from what happened that night. You are not to blame. Do you hear me?”

As a trickle of juice from the contraband apple drips lasciviously over his chin, he wondered if perhaps he was wrong in coming here, in satiating the animal that was his curiosity. Animals were best tamed, not indulged; Mason’s was not even mildly domesticated, but rather a wild beast tugging him forth by a leash-string. And his animal wished to know the science and logic of Mina Augustine’s mind, for she could so easily pick apart his; but where was the room for logic and science when hers was such a horribly intimate, horribly religious sight? Though she could not see the sinew of his changing bones, the rot between rib and liver, she could certainly hear its echoes. Who else could say that? Who else would wish to know? 

He was an intrusive vine lurching toward the sun, a prickly beast amongst the field of flowers below her window, and yet Mason had never been the sort to feel remorse at being horribly out of place. It was in the nature of poison to bleed upon the innocent, and it seemed as if she was the purest canvas on which his influence could spread. Of course, and most strangely of all, he thought not of his appearance here as something malicious, something unwelcome; he thought not to destroy, but to study. Lions and lambs had no business entering into the ever so precarious bonds of kinship, and yet he could not think of any other way in which to go about approaching the spooked beast in the tower above. Empathy blooms - curiosity cuts. 

With trepidation, he held his hand up in a cautious wave, free fingers wrapped around the core of his apple. The corners of his lips twitched at her sentiment, head cocked inquisitively to the side; Mason could not say that he remembered a time in which anyone had ever wished to see him. It was an image akin to a sailor staring blindly into the eye of a storm, not knowing what awaited them on the other side of the calm - silly as it was deadly. And yet he was acutely aware of the twitch of his lips, the ease of his breath; what of his mind could she hear now? She had wanted to see him. How strange this was. How not unwelcome.

“Feeling up for a stroll?” he called, forgetting for but a moment that she could have heard him either way. The invitation hung in the air between them, spiraling upward in a smoke-tendril; Mason took another bite from his apple, ignoring the weight of implication upon his words. It felt a strange juxtaposition, to be here with such innocent intent after, not hours prior, finding himself embroiled in much darker pursuits. He was all dark side - and yet he found himself staring into the sun in search of but a moment of light for the sake of the fragile crystal that alighted upon the sill above. 

He held out a hand, as if she would be capable of reaching down to take it. “Come -” he invited, “- take a walk.”

How she wondered how she had come to land in the most unexpected of situations; especially when she had originally vowed to never touch the Delacroix family, just as her parents had. She had wanted to follow in her parent’s footsteps, and yet here she was — delicately interweaving herself into situations she most likely had no business in entangling herself in. She felt a tumultuous feeling in the pit of her stomach as her fingers interlinked with one another, nervous at the implications of last night’s occasion; especially since she was the Prince’s own anchor. It would never be a pair publicly approved, despite her familial background — and she knew that in the end, he deserved better than someone like her. 

Yet she had found herself being drawn to another; one so different to herself, but one she found an incredible amount of good in, something she could see that he himself doubted. How she wished he could see himself just like she did. No one was ever irredeemable. And perhaps it was because he had found her in a moment where she had been ready to give it all up, and now she wanted to do the same for him — but there was something unexplainable that drew her towards him, likened to a moth to a flame. He was so unalike, yet there was something familiar about him, something that made her feel comfortable, allowing her to forget about the woes of her anchor duties and worries about her powers. Her eyes curiously looking over him, she tilted her head as she tried her best to block his thoughts from her own; trying to allow him for his own privacy, just like she did for others although she wondered what he thought about someone like her.

And perhaps this was another dangerous dance that she had found herself drawing herself towards, but she found her own spirits lifting at his question — the thoughts of the events of last night forgotten as she began to nod slowly at his request, wondering what this could possibly transpire towards. “Of course.” She replied with a bright smile, before responding, “Just give me a second.” Latching her window shut, quick footsteps leading towards the outside of the Anchor quarters as she moved fluidly towards the other, her thoughts continuing to wonder whether this was a rather intelligent notion of hers.

Well it was too late now. Finally planting her feet at a stop in front of the other, she began to ask, “Where to now? I heard there were some markets in the square today, if you wanted to go, or I heard the sunset was to be splendid tonight if you wanted to see that.” Well if he wasn’t already regretting his decision, she was sure he would be now — congratulations Mina.

 “We don’t need to dance if it makes you nervous, Mina.” slender fingers released the other anchor’s, trailing a line instead from the base of their owner’s jaw until they came to rest on the top of her own thigh. Rosalie’s movements were gentle enough to leave a certain layer of discomfort to thicken the air between them. Gentle is not what she normally is. 

 “Do I make you nervous, sweetheart? Are you scared that I’ll curdle your blood if you step on my feet?” Rosy lips had tipped at the corners before the words had melted from them, body still moving to the thrum pouring from giant speakers.

It was a rare occasion to see Mina in such an establishment like this, but she had wanted to escape the Palace, seeking to forget the events of what had happened recently. And it was with that thought that she had arrived here, a single drink flowing through her veins as she had begun to encounter a rather different Rosalie than she was was used to. “Nervous? You? Never.” She replied with another laugh, before reaching out so that her fingers gripped the others as she tipped her head back, shutting her eyes briefly to enjoy the music as she continued, “But I’m sure I’ll accidentally step on your feet more than once.”

when: set in the future  where: destroyed astronomical tower who: mina augustine & joel duncan / @ofcozenage

It hadn’t been very many words, but they had the ability to hurt her like none ever had before. For the first time, she had taken the courage to say the words that had been engraved upon her heart; that had been there ever since he had rescued her from her demons and troubles — and now he had broken her in that same way that he had almost healed her. I’m not the one for you, I don’t love you in that way. All those words meant the same thing, and she knew all too well what it was. Rejection. A sharp sigh escaping her lips, tears tumbled down as she cradled the bourbon bottle close to her chest as she took another long drink from it. She should have known better, but she had hoped, she had wished, she had dreamed. And that had been her downfall. Her legs tipped precariously over the edge of the tower, Mina lay her head against the side of the wall as she contemplated what this meant. She had never felt like this before, but with his words had made her feel an overwhelming need of emptiness, of nothing. And with that she laughed. In the face of everything, it was a bitter chuckle, one that ironically became bemused at her fate. “I should have known better, than to entrust my heart with another.” She remarked bitterly, as she found herself at the end of her glass bottle, only to reach over to pick up another one.

“In the end, I was the biggest fool.”

It was not a foreign thing, to hear cries, sobs, laments in the dark. But most often, they existed only in his mind, echoes within the hollow of his skull; they sat somewhere between memory and fabrication, but never before had they seemed quite as real as this. Perhaps he was going insane; perhaps he was growing a palate for empathy. Either outcome was not favorable - Mason had little time and little patience for the machinations of weak emotions such as these. And yet he still could not shake the fact that he heard it, this despondent voice which rang all too familiarly and cut short his solitude all too quickly. 

He was met, as he approached, with the sound of shattering glass, the smell of liquor in the air - and a familiar voice. Mason hesitated for but a moment, for the implications of the face on the other side of the stone wall which stood before him now were nearly too great, too dangerous. Her tears were far too human, far too intimate; she was unzipped and spilling, and he had not the hands to repair. 

And yet his body seemed to wish to act before he did, but not in the manner that was so characteristic of his dangerous proclivity. So often, when his body acted of its own accord, it was something akin to a predator’s fell swoop. This, however, was not one of those times. From within him emerged a beast of a different color, a shade of memory, of humanity, long since buried.

Mason snatched the bottle from between shaking fingers with as much gentility as he was capable of, appearing before her as a specter of uncertainty and precarious authority. “Perhaps -” he began, unfamiliar with the sensation of becoming a voice of reason, “- no more of this, Miss Augustine.”

She didn’t understand why she had decided to find the solution at the bottom of this bourbon bottle, but in her haze of an infinite sadness and because she missed her parents so incredibly so; she had decided to tackle her problems in the stereotypical fashion. The bottle between her fingers reminding her where exactly she was, she continued to gaze out the window, almost as if she was contemplating to drape her leg over the destroyed brick and over the window; before common sense winning out over her. Perhaps the drink was beginning to infiltrate her mind, ever more — as Mina began to hear more thoughts circulate within her mind, confusion arising as she didn’t quite know which one was true and real, and which was not. But despite this, she could sense that someone was near, and she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted them to witness her in this state. Taking a long drink from the bottle between her fingers, a sharp sigh escaped her lips as she contemplated the long years that had tolled on without her parents.

Would they be happy with the changes in her daughter? After they had fought so long to be neutral, against the Delacroix family, what could they possibly think of their daughter who was now an Anchor for one of the princes, actively supporting them and their side. They would be disappointed, of that much she was sure. And with this, another broken cry escaped her lips, one much more profoundly louder than the other, as she thought about how much her parents would have disapproved of the path she had taken.

Yet as she realised there was another figure that stood nearby, ever watching her as if they were unsure how to act; she began to cock her head to look at them, trying to realise who they were as the shadows hid their facial features. As he began to swoop the bottle out of her fingers, a small yelp sounded, the familiar glass bottle no longer there to steady her, to ease her pain; and only crimson staining her fingers as the aftermath. “Have you come to save me yet again, Mason? Haven’t you realised I’m beyond redemption?” She replied, clutching the edge of the wall to stand her up, as she turned away from him, almost in shame.

“Even my parents must be turning in their grave, as we speak.”

date + time: may 30 location: just outside the palace  @legitanimo

He’d walked past the palace gates three times before deciding to slip through them, a once-welcome wraith now entirely out of place amongst the flowers along the garden path. A shadow of the man who once walked these paths with pride and purpose, he now slipped across the cobblestones and onto the lawn as if he feared being spotted; and perhaps he did, for though the grounds were open to the public, Mason himself was something far removed from the general public. He was a shadow, a memory of the Anchor who once ruled the halls with an iron fist and a threat of a rotting demise; it was only appropriate that he would return here now, with rot upon his heart and blackness between his ribs.

The rot – and something else. It ate at him like a gnawing animal upon his bones; and it was what drove him here now, what had kept him away, and what itched at him to desire to be anywhere but here, and to remain here, all in one. The party had been a short-lived affair for Mason; he, of all the Horsemen, was perhaps the least likely to remain at any sort of public function if it did not befit him. He had gotten thoroughly drunk and had returned to his cavernous sanctuary, where decay was encouraged. And yet, now, he wished he had stayed.

Was this jealousy? It sat between the third and fourth rib like a pin-prick, something that had been stuck there in his sleep, as if he were a living pincushion. Jealousy – but something a darker shade. He was not inclined to admit it, nor was he inclined to feel it at all. His fingers itched about the apple he had brought along, the first thing he’d consumed in a day and a half, and wished it was a drink.

Oh, how he wished he could simply turn about, tramp back over the rose bushes, and find himself at a bar, where they’d not judge him for drinking so early in the morning. But something pulled him forth, something that rang hollow within his ears - the thought of Royce at the party; the thought of Royce and someone elsein a dark corner; the thought of someone else entirely. He felt sick at the thought of her, pulled into a dark corner, where perhaps she’d not wanted to be in the first place. Had she wished to be dancing instead?

Chagrin bit at him - he’d not even seen her.

But now was the opportune moment to recover, to quell the strange beast within his chest, whose language he did not speak. He knew the windows above his head from memory, and so he wandered along the wall - paying little attention to the flowers he was stepping on - until he came to the window behind which he could only hope she lingered. Mason knew that she could hear him, wherever she may be - and a streak of utter smugness cut through him at the thought of the private connection. His lips twitched upward; if only Royce could see him hear, watch him calling out to her without uttering a word.

And so he leaned against the wall beneath the appropriate window, bit into the apple, and thought, ignoring the juices trickling down his chin. He called out to her in his thoughts, calling her name over - over - over. It took great effort to keep his imagination out of the picture, to push away all imagined images of Mina and Royce; it was not his business.

And yet it very much was. It was something violent inside him. Mason licked his lips. Surely she tasted sweet.

None of his business. Think not of it.

He craned his neck and looked up at the window, twirling the apple between lithe fingers - and called her once more. Miss Augustine? Why are you inside on a day like today?

Her thoughts were consumed with a multitude of jumbled notions. And the worst part was that he wasn’t here with her, because he no longer was an Anchor like she was. It was why she had been so excited to go to the masquerade ball, why she had so hesitantly and reluctantly yet had been somewhat exhilarated to wear the dress that she had chosen, hoping that he would like the attire she had adorned that night. Yet she had barely got a glimpse of him; easily hearing his thoughts, and been entertained for a period of the evening before he had disappeared and she had been drawn into Royce’s attention. And as his dutiful Anchor she had entertained him, nervous at the electrical spark that was brought between them although her thoughts had kept fluttering back to the certain Horseman that she had not yet interacted with, or seen. She had promised him a dance, and that she had done; until they had been drawn out upon the balcony, all thoughts of Mason finally disappearing as she nervously clutched the railing behind her.

Despite her Prince being someone she was comfortable with, he could perhaps never compare to what Mason had done for her. Whilst once being within the darkened solace of despair, his comforting words and gestures had meant more to her than anyone else could truly know. He had reached out and grasped her hand in that very War Room that day when she had been overwhelmed by her very own powers. And his words were something that she would never forget to this day. Whilst being afraid of her own powers and their capabilities, he encouraged her and encouraged her to not fear what was her own. And it was why her heart completely and utterly would belong to him, her protector. She trusted him, and she knew that she could rely upon him always. But in that moment, her heart fluttered like a hummgingbird’s wings, caught up in her haze of champagne and thoughts of Mason before Royce had done the unthinkable.

Perhaps in another lifetime if her pathways had not crossed with so many others it would have meant to be. And in that moment, all facades disappeared as she whispered her apologies and elusively left the party, fearing the moment that others would find out. She knew that the actions she had committed had been the unthinkable; with Royce being royalty and here being a mere anchor, feeling the slight trepidation and dread in what could result from her interaction, blaming herself for what had happened last night. And yet despite this all, she just longed to get away and not be within the Palace walls. But she knew she had her duties, and she would honour them; even if she was to be away from her Prince in that moment. However as she began to turn the page of her forgotten book that lay within her palms, she began to hear the familiar beckoning of the one that her thoughts had been consumed by for the last tumultuous hours.

A smile breaking upon her features for the first time that morning, she moved towards her own window, her fingers gripping over the clasp as she pushed it open to see such a welcome view, of the one she would have rather been entangled upon the dance floor instead. “Mason, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to see you.” She breathed as she leaned out the window her warm gaze looking upon him as the ends of her smile widened as she watched him with his apple.

For a long time, Mina hadn’t indulged in alcohol because it would only heighten her powers, and cause her to hear hallucinated voices — ones that would in time come to frighten her; for the thoughts that would come to mind, the ones that she would discern. A lone bottle clutched between her fingertips, she leaned against the rubble, her figure slumped over as she took another long drag of the liquid; relishing the burn she felt slip down her throat as she thought over the last time she had consumed this much liquor. Images of sirens and a loud crash came to mind, the feeling of absolute darkness before waking up to a sea of light. Disorientated and confused, she in her haze to find her parents instead heard voices in her mind — ones that frightened her for what it could possibly mean. And with this came a broken cry that escaped her lips as she began to drink more profoundly from the bottle as tears began to stream down her features. “If only you could see me now.” She bitterly remarked before smashing the bottle on the wall, the glass shattering in her hands and lightly piercing parts of flesh as she whispered, “I miss you.” Reaching over to pick up another bottle of bourbon, she ignored the brief glimpses of crimson she saw as she wrapped her arms around her body; trying to find a sense of peace and comfort before she began to drink from the next. Perhaps it would come from the bottom of this one.

In all honesty Sofia had dreaded today. So much could’ve gone wrong, but nothing really did. In fact everything worked and ran smoothly. But then again with someone like Jean-Pierre organizing everything, how could it not? This kind of festival served as a great way to unite the Mundanes with Saints. To welcome a new generation which unites to species, at least that’s how she interpreted the masquerade ball, to open the castle’s walls to more and more Saints to, eventually, break the barrier completely. There were Saints like Mina who’d suffered at the hands of Mundanes, who didn’t have to be feared, but were. “Good company’s always important in those key moments. I’m glad we’re all here together, celebrating not only life but you finally emerging from your hard shell,” Sofia smirked. 

“Quinn’s pretty versatile, isn’t she?” she asked with a mysterious hint, biting her lip, but breaking out in laughter shortly after. “Just kiddin’,” with one drink in her right hand she managed to wrap her left around Mina’s shoulders and lean her own head against hers. Looking upwards towards the stars she suddenly had to think of Joel, for some reason. The thought lingered for just a second, but it left a visible smile on her face. “I’m honestly not sure what the royal family has planned for us, but either way we’ll be victorious and you’ll never have to worry about Mundanes ever again, about their wrath and hatred,” she purposely shifted her mind to more vague thoughts, away from Jean-Pierre and that one stranger who’d left an impact on her, maybe because he seemed strangely familiar for a stranger. 

There were times when Mina came to be incredibly grateful for the people that surrounded her — especially with her parents deceased and no family surrounding her. She had come to to be encompassed by complete strangers, only for them to become friends and like her own family. Sofia was one of the very first people she had encountered, and with her acceptance and kind gestures, she had come to call the very girl a close friend, albeit perhaps even a sister. She had thought that she would begin to estrange those about her, being ostracised for her powers; when she had come to be accepted, even if some considered her as a weapon to be utilised in this impending war. But Sofia’s words rang true, she had begun to change. And perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing — changing due to encouragement of beings like her. “What would I do without you.” She replied fondly, allowing Sofia’s close company as she began to step closer to the other.

“No kidding.” Mina replied with a larger smile as she began to laugh at the other’s reply as she began to hear the small whispers of thoughts beckoning to her own mind. Despite her best to disconnect the crimson haired girls to her own, she began to see flashes and images of Joel in her own — shocked that Sofia would have even been drawn to these thoughts. Jolting herself back into reality, a small look of surprise appeared in her own eyes before she nodded slowly at the reply, her own thoughts shifting from why Sofia could have possibly been thinking of this to her initial memories of becoming a Saint. “I sincerely hope so.” She whispered, biting her lip softly as she tilted her own head to glance at the numerous stars that surrounded them.