Resonance

Repost, don’t reblog.

MEDIEVAL.

tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

RENAISSANCE.

freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your kneesocks on.

BAROQUE.

dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colourless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

CLASSICAL.

chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup mug. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble. sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.

ROMANTIC.

compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles

Tagged by: @littleredshccp

“Frow-what now?” She quirks an eyebrow, the bird like tilt of her head curiously absent at this age apparently. Bright eyes continue to stare at Riordan with some mixture of contempt and skepticism at his words.

“No offense but you look like you tell stories for a living, dad taught me not to listen to them.”

resonantaura​:

@hvithale

Riordan’s mouth curled into a catlike smile. She didn’t know him yet? Oh this was going to be fun. “You mean you don’t recognize me? Vell zen, allow me to introduce myself.” He took a step back and bowed dramatically, “Riordan Farlight, at your service. And vell…if you don’t remember me, perhaps it’s best if I leave it a surprise for when you grow up, ja?”

Oh this was annoying. Though apparently it’s enough to keep her from glaring, face now set only in an unamused scowl. “Ah yes yet another person patronizing me like I’m a small child. Now top it off with my asshole teacher and it’ll be just like normal.”

Her tail visibly relaxes and the tension eases out of her shoulders, they did give their name, it’s only polite. “Libra, Stirling.”

“The only thing accentuating anything,” Cherry sighs and puts her head down on the table, horns hitting it with a dull thump, “Is my big stupid horns. Even if people did think I was cute or, pretty or whatever, they get a look at my horns and change their mind.”

Riordan's brow furrowed into a frown, "Nonsense!" they said, reaching out to muss up Cherry's hair, "Your horns are adorable, Fraulein. Never think otherwise." They knew Cherry didn't have the best self-image, but damn it, Riordan was going to make sure she knew she was beautiful.

“But if it works for you, then why would you want to be like me?” With a deep yawn it’s suddenly clear that perhaps she should be drinking coffee over chocolate, up late with school again most likely. “I think there’s something really neat about the flashy and glamorous style you have going on though, like a celebrity!”

May blinked, shaking her head slightly. “It’s kind of you to say,” She began, “But I’m just not risking as much - that’s the only reason I don’t include myself. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m amazing,” She added, sticking out her tongue.

“But the family name is always sort of a…cushion? If I’m willing to, I could give up the life I want and hide behind it for safety. So I’m not risking as much as my friends are.” 

May’s cheeks turned pink as Riordan complimented her hair. “Um….No, I don’t mind. Thank you. But the answer is kind of boring - I have to do it this way. It’s so thick it’s completely unmanageable at this length unless I wrap it, and I can’t bring myself to cut it…Young May had to pass for a boy for so long I just don’t want short hair yet.”

Riordan’s hand drifted up toward his own hair. He missed having it longer. It was far easier for the days when he was feeling more feminine, but after a particularly bad encounter where he was accused of purposely misleading someone, he hadn’t quite worked up the courage to grow it out again.

“I understand ze feeling,” he said, wistful melancholy colouring his voice. “Not zat I need to ‘pass’ as male all the time, but ze days when I would...rather not...are made harder because of zis,” he said, twirling a few strands through his fingers.

Still, she had to admit, she looked damn good right now, all things considered, so she could deal with the discomfort that stemmed from her hair.

A noise from behind her made her suddenly remember that she was, in fact, out in public. She'd been too caught up in her own thoughts. The store window she'd been using as a mirror showed her reflection clearly, though the other person wasn't clear enough to make out. She put on a wide smile to hide the slight sheepishness she felt at getting caught staring at herself and turned to greet the stranger.

Riordan let out a small chuckle, smirking at his friend, “Oh really? My my, Threads, I didn’t know you vere zat curious about me.” He grinned at her and opened a liquor cabinet, fingers dancing across various bottles before settling on a nice red wine. He pulled it from the cabinet and uncorked it, decanting the bottle into two glasses.

“My family.” May replied, without an instant’s hesitation. Her expression soured a little as she spoke, though, and her lips thinned into a line.

“Not in the good way, though. I have…complicated family relationships. Let’s just say I come from privilege, but even so, I can’t find a lot of things about the Marigold family to be proud of.”

She sighed softly, her expression turning forlorn. “We…they spend a lot of time attending the right parties, and looking just so, and not much else. I didn’t want to spend time surpressing myself to chase the approval of people I don’t care about, and I want my life to…mean something. And I want to spend it as myself, not some artfully self-interested playboy like my cousin Henry. Robyn, Fiona, and Joanna….my friends so much more….they’re heroes. Helping people who really need it. I’m privileged to help them.”

She smiled faintly. “The Army has it’s uses, but it spends so much time chasing it’s own tail. I couldn’t imagine prioritizing political ends over individual lives.”

She shook her head as though to clear it, and flashed Riordan a light grin. “Sorry. Too heavy?”

Riordan returned her grin with his own, reaching out to put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. He was well aware that his parents were the exception to Atlesian high class, rather than the rule. While they may have made every effort to be decent people and made sure that their children had the freedom to be who they wanted, families like the Marigolds and the Schnees...they placed status above all.

“It is heartening to hear you hold Fraulein Hill and ze rest of your friends in such high regard, May,” he said softly, “Though I vould say you are forgetting to include yourself in zat assessment. Ze work you do - all of you - it is important, and I hope to see you standing with your friends in victory in ze coming election. Mantle - hell all of Atlas - needs people like ze Happy Huntresses. People who want to do ze right thing for ze people - whether that falls in line with what ze military wants or not.”

He felt a kindred spirit in May Marigold. She was like him - born into wealth, but unsatisfied living a life of comfort within the safety of Atlas’ walls. There was a key difference, though. Riordan had been allowed the choice of becoming a Hunter. May had to forsake her old life to get what she wanted. It made Riordan admire the woman, to some extent.