knight / reflection

* @bellonaforged

occasionally, déodat wondered what life was like in other families. in non-magical ones, for example. the thought had grasped him many years ago and it had not yet released him, the quiet contemplation if in other families, christmas was also a bit of this --- brilliant minds, showing off what new spells they had created along the year. he knew that he was guilty of it, just like he had seen asce weave spell upon spell around a rock. what the point of  that  had been, he could not say for sure, but ... knowing asce, it had to be something that toed the line between genius and madness.

but then, he decided as he unwrapped the gift, it did not matter. because no matter how screwed up his family was, those were the people he loved. well, without his mother and aunt. he had never cared much about them. he cared about his siblings, even freya who liked to spook him by predicting doom by eating cereals, even basil who had sometimes eyes colder than any known material in the world. he would never want to trade them for other, less eccentric people.

catching laelia's present was ... easy, for déodat. it probably would have been easy for any of their siblings, too. while he was the one who put most focus on his fitness, this was because his magic was physical in how he used it. for this to work, his body had to be steel. the gift was light, and softer than he had first anticipated, though it made sense. last time he had checked, he had not given laelia a reason to throw heavy things at his face.

Smile. It was the number one thing to keep in mind if you wanted to attract men. But at the same time don’t seem too open. Usually it was Jone who gossiped about other ladies’ indiscretions and she didn’t care to be on the wrong end of the grapevine.

A smile was already on her features before she even knew who was talking to her. But it definitely widened when she did see him. Déodat Rosen. Very handsome, very rich and also famous for winning almost every tournament he competed in. Basically a dream come true not just for Jone. Her father would be overjoyed if he heard his daughter was dancing with a Rosen boy. He always told her she possessed the charm of a siren, but even Jone knew that her father was prone to exaggerations.  She herself decided to be careful in her expectations and not automatically assume that the man before her had been prompted to approach her because he noticed her ( undeniable ) radiant beauty. She’d just enjoy this dance for she adored dancing.

“ I’d be honored, Lord Rosen. “ she replied and put away the glass of wine she had been holding.

déodat had never been a coward, but something about lady florie made him deeply uncomfortable, a warning feeling further fueled by how  insistent  his mother was that he would  court  the cold-eyed blonde. so far, déodat had managed to avoid obeying his mother's wishes, but ... sooner or later, one of duke rosen's children would have to marry for political reasons. and déodat would rather be the one than to watch one of his siblings being forced to promise their life to someone they did not even know properly.

dragging someone else, someone who was blissfully uninvolved with the  opera  his family could be at times --- it was not his best decision. his mother would undoubtedly rage and be even more unpleasant than she usually was. she would rage against déodat and anyone he had talked to in the last few days as she would surely find ways to blame anyone but herself for déodat's current  misbehaviour.  not that it still mattered, now. he had asked lord cruz' daughter for a dance, she had accepted and there was nothing left but to face the consequences, whatever they might be.

“ the honour is mine, ” he said as he bowed his head, holding one hand out to her. “ have you been enjoying the --- festivities so far? ”

tagged by :  @w-whitefang, kinda tagging : you see this? you are tagged.

APHRODITE:      laughter-loving.  sweet  smiles. dressed  in  silk  and  satin.  flower  in  their  hair.    sees  the  world  as  a  runway.    unapologetically  sexual.   the  sea  washing  their  ankles. in  love  with  love. stirrer  of  passion. cunning  concealed  by  painted  lips.  secret  daggers.  doves.     revolution  in  their  kiss.     delighting  in  the  waves.    flirtatious  winks. strolling  along  the  beach.    staring  wistfully  from  a  balcony. this  is  how  to  be  a  heartbreaker.    wants  to  be  adored.  gets  turned  on  by  danger.

APOLLO:       glitz  and  glamour.     art  galleries.     turning  the  volume  up.     being  made  of  gold.     neatly-organized  music  sheets.     notebooks  filled  with  poetry.    bathing  in  the  sunlight.  the  powerful  urge  to  create.    collecting  vinyl  records.    beautiful  cover  of  wonderwall.     playing  multiple  instruments.     tasting  like  sunshine.  healing  touch. speaking  in  prophecies.   smile  mingled  with  wrath.   shunning  lies.  sporting  shades.  hanging  out  at  music  festivals  with  their  friends.    sleeps  naked.  arrow  to  the  heart.  paint  brushes.    probably  has  a  tinder  account.

ARES:      armed  for  battle.  wants  to  raise  a  dog  with  their  significant  other.  soft  spot  for  children.     gives  piggyback  rides.   scarred  body.    blood  on  their   hands  and  face.   willing  to  fight  the  world  for  the  ones  they  love. fights  against  injustice.  warm  hugs.      well-worn  combat  boots.  boxing gloves.  bandages  wrapped  around  bruised  knuckles.  fist  raised  in  protest.     ignites  revolutions.   fear  is  a  prison.     more  sensitive  than  what  their  tough  shell  would  have  you  think.  exhausted.  damaged  goods.   force  to  be  reckoned  with.   red  roses.   curses  under  breath.

ARTEMIS:       keen  sense  of  a  hunter.       freckles  like  constellations  on  their  skin.piercing  eyes.  disheveled  braid.    moonlight  peeking  through  the  shadows.  the  calm  of  the  forest  at  night.      lying  on  the  grass  and  staring  at  the  stars.  mother  doe  and  her  fawn.      protecting  their  kin.   the  moon  shimmering  on  a  still  lake.      quiver  full  of  arrows  resting  against  the  bark  of  a  tree.   running  with  wolves.  bonding  while  circled  around  a  campfire.     not  being  much  of  a  people  person.    arrow  hitting  a  target.    popping  egos.     patience  on  3%.  touches  heaven  and  returns  howling.

ATHENA:     discerning  gaze.    unreadable  face.     quiet  museums.   owl  perched  on  their  finger.     armor  that  intimidates.     eye  for  architecture.     plays  the  sims  for  the  sole  purpose  of  building   houses.     studied  the  blade  while  everyone  else  was  busy  getting  laid.   big  fan  of  logic.     loves  brain  teasers.     ancient  buildings.     sweaters  in  neutrals  and  cool  colors.   hair  done  up.  can  kill  you  with  their  brain.  heads  to  the  library  often  to  research.   sharpened  pencils.   abs  that  can  cut  steel.  stoic  statues.     pottery classes.

DEMETER:      soil-covered  hands.   smile  that  can  bloom  flowers.    skin  loved  by  the  sun.  being  the  mom-friend. can  lift  you  and  your  friends.   flowers  kept  in  the  pockets  of  overalls.    takes  pride  in  their  beautiful  garden.    speaks  to  their  plants.      leaves  rustling  in  the  wind.     stalks  of  wheat.     picking  fruit.     greenhouses.   heart  as  strong  as  a  mountain.   values  simplicity.  daisies  dotted  across  a  collarbone. curls  crowned  with  flowers.    folded  pile  of  sweaters  in  warm  hues.  pulling  out  fresh-   baked  bread  out  of  the  oven  and  the  smell  wafting  through  the  air.

DIONYSUS:   drunk  shitposter.    on  their  sixth  glass  of  wine  before  you’ve  even  finished  your  second.   seductive  smirks.  untamed curls.  rich  fabrics  on  dark  skin.      sleek-furred  panthers.     theater  masks.    stage  productions.   receiving  a  standing  ovation.     rose  caught  between  their  teeth.     being  the  baby  of  the  bunch.    wild  parties  that  last  from  sundown  to  sunup.   creeping  vines.     inspiring  loyalty.   grand  opera  houses.    masquerade  balls.     rolls  of  film.    shattered  chandeliers  with  broken glass  scattered  across  the  wine-spilled  floor.   pouring  champagne  into  flutes.    lives  for  the   applause.

HEPHAESTUS:   the  calloused  hands  of  someone  who  knows  labor.      sweaty  brow.    flame  burning  in  their  eyes.     inventive  mind.   broad  shoulders. steampunk  goggles.    nuts  and  bolts  stored  away  in  little  boxes.     ashes.    striking  a  match.     blueprints  for  future  projects.     fixing  up  a  busted  up  car  and  giving  it  cool  upgrades.       wrestles  with  bitterness.   work  boots  have  seen  better  years.    wrinkled  plaid  shirts.  iron  melted  in  blazing  fire.    huge  jackets.   crafting  masterpieces.   greased-    stained  overalls.    fascination  with  robotics.   pain  is  fuel.  stack  of  weaponry.  even   their  muscles  have  muscles.

HERA:       resting  bitch  face.     dressed  to  the  nines.  cows  grazing  on  a  pasture.    cool  rain.  loving  and  hating  fiercely.     hand  clutching  a  string  of  pearls.     large  chandelier  with  glittering  crystals.    plays  the  sims  for  the  sole  purpose  of  killing  off  their  sims.     romance  to  realism. pictures  of  the  sky  while  flying  on  a  plane.  files  that  under  fuck  it.    downs  glasses  of  wine  as  they  relax  with  a  scented  bubble  bath  and  netflix.   like  their  selfie  or  you’re  grounded.   knows  57  convenient  ways  to  murder  a  man.    dark  eyes  that  penetrate  your  soul.   marble  and  gold.

HERMES:     devil-may-care  smile.  always  up-to-date  on  the  latest  technology.  will  steal  your  french  fries.     does  it  for  the vine.   shitposter.     puts  googly  eyes  on  everything.   meme  hoarder.   long  drives  on  the  highway.  ma  and  pop  diners.  spontaneous  road  trips. folded  maps.   fingers  dancing  across  the  keyboard  of  a  laptop.     shooting  hoops  on  the  basketball  court.   chatting  up  strangers  as  you  all  journey  to  your  own  destinations.  goes  jogging  in  the  morning.  mixes  redbull  with  coffee.   menace  on  april fool’s. hoodies  and  sneakers.  

POSEIDON:     storm  with  skin.  colorful  coral  reefs.    waves  crashing  against  the  shore.  stroking  the  soft  fur  of  a  cat.  their  heart  pounding  as  their  horse’s  gentle  trot  speeds  into  a  gallop.   tousled  locks.  clothes  smeared  with  paint.   owns  several  sketchbooks  yet  always  yearns  to  own  more.   leather  jackets.  fondness  for  diy  projects.   handwriting  that  flows  across  the  page. nimble  fingers  playing  the  strings  of  a  violin.    velvety  singing  voice  that  haunts  dreams.   mood  as  ever-changing  as  the  sea.  the  roar  of  a  motorcycle.  compass  with  a  spinning arrow.

* @bellonaforged

déodat had always been a man who made exceptions. whether he had agreed to stay longer in his office to fit in auburn’s appointment after she had hurt her foot or whether he had driven freya through half the city when she had been in need of new dancing shoes, he had always put others before himself. and this was hardly an exception; he had stopped dancing frequently when he had been accepted into med school, prioritising his studies over a hobby, but in some cases, he still picked up the dancing shoes again.

and he had made a lot of exceptions in the wake of claude’s accident when the group had been a few dancers short. it was not that he had ever lost interest in dancing, but — he had wanted to be a good doctor more than he had wanted to be a good dancer. nowadays, he was sometimes thinking that maybe, he could have both, that he could dance again while  also  working hard on his career. but his current arrangements were too fresh, too new for him to really know if it was working, if he truly could live in two worlds at once.

between the two of them, laelia was the better dancer, probably because she had more inherent talent and more pressure to succeed, but déodat had long found his own rhythm. he was older, he had  far  more experience — and he had been dealing with more talented people for as long as he could remember. because éloi had always been there, learning so much faster, always racing towards new heights. but éloi had quit, had made it  painfully  clear that he would never dance again.

( at least not in the studio. )

( at least not for their mother. )

“ careful with these jumps, ” he said cheerfully as he waved at the girl  — for him, she would always be a girl, just like he would always see his sister the same way. “ that’s how eleanor sprained her ankle, you know. ”

he probably should not disclose these things, but unless the studio had stopped being a gossip mill, there was no way eleanor’s little accident had not reached everyone already. after all, it had happened in the middle of the lobby during a time when many had been either coming or leaving. that had been, after all, why freya had been present right away and how she had been able to drag / carry eleanor across the street where déodat’s office was located.