* STUTTERING / HEIR !

He was rarely without his beanie, but this was an exception. Someone was injured and they needed his help. The other is fine now, and Elias needs to find that hat before someone catches him without it. His hair is still glowing—it will for a while—and he doesn’t want them to see. It’s the source of his bullying, and he’d rather that remained hidden.

But then there’s footsteps behind him, and he can’t find it. He doesn’t turn around, only freezes in his spot. ❝ Please don’t t-t-tell anyone. ❞ It’s almost as if he’s begging—because he is—and his hands are shaking, too.

Concern washes over Elias’ face the moment she says she wants to leave. He isn’t a big partier, but Jughead was his brother and it would be rude of him not to show his face. Cheryl is far more popular than him, everyone is, so he can’t understand why she’d come to him of all people. Jughead’s stuttering twin that showed up in town, catching everyone by surprise. But he won’t turn her down, it isn’t in his nature.

“Yeah, c-come on, I’ll bring you ho-h-home.” He rests his hand on the small of her back, shoving other bodies out of his way as he leads her out into the night. His car is across the road, but he doesn’t head there yet. “Are you okay?” His stutter is gone, but he doesn’t notice it. In times of worry, or fear, his words steadied. “Did someone hurt you? Is that why you want to leave?”

                STARTLED, she flashed out of existence for a mere millisecond, but still, disappearing in the middle of auradon prep wasn’t exactly what she’d been taught to do.  “—sorry, i, uh.” ‘i see a lot of myself in you’ or ‘i also feel out of place here’ weren’t the best conversation starters. glowing eyes concentrated on her hands, her claws filed down to normal nails and her teal striped hair pulled back from sight. 

she knew his story, everyone did. she held back from disappearing completely and just running, pretending like this interaction never existed, she couldn’t bring herself to do that to him.                             “ i like your beanie.” glowing eyes glanced up at him, as lips curled quickly to a smile before fading again. SHE WANTED TO RUN. 

                CONFUSION was evident on his face. people weren’t nice to him. either they said nothing to him at all or they fired cruel insults his way. but never nice. “what?” his hair was glowing beneath the aforementioned beanie, something that happened when he was anxious. sure, it was magic hair, but he wasn’t really taught how to control it. there was no time to teach him—he’d vanished. fingers tugged the hat further on his head, focusing on pushing the glow away. even dyed black it shone through; not nearly as strong as when it was blonde.

he didn’t want to speak again. the more he spoke the harder it became to form words, but he knew he had to if he wanted to be polite. royal children were supposed to be polite, weren’t they?

              ❝i know. i was told to be gentle.❞ hara was no avid newspaper reader and no means did she understand what was going on politically but it was impossible not to be informed on elias fitzherbert’s situation. it was a worldwide topic for two months straight ( wouldn’t doubt there are still people catching up on the latest ). top it off, she was sat down earlier today to make sure she behaved or at least make herself scarce. nice didn’t come easily to her — a lasting result from her seedy upbringing, for sure. 

her patience was still intact. which was good. she’s sure one venous slip and the kid might cry, she thinks. of course, she doesn’t know the gritty details but she can assume those years of disappearance weren’t pretty — she does have the sense not to ask, even if she kind of wants to. she folds her arms. picking through her head for something to say to him. she doesn’t know how to speak to him either. a first in almost forever. ❝hara. my name.❞

             his brows furrow as she speaks. told? he doesn’t like that people have to be told how to behave around him. sure, he went missing, but that didn’t make him so easily breakable. ❝you don’t ha-have to be gentle. i have a stutter. that doesn’t make me f-f-f-❞ he clears his throat. ❝fragile. i’m not fragile.❞ and he isn’t. he’s quiet and withdrawn, keeping mostly to himself, but he isn’t fragile. but he’s quiet, and he would rather people left him alone. shy, his mother says.

          LIZZIE DROPS TO her knees to help him gather his things, sliding him back one of his textbooks, and she offers him a soft smile as she stands with him.     ❝  as long as we’re both okay, elias.  ❞

          he doesn’t do well with STRANGERS. he doesn’t do well with people period, and certainly not with villain kids. they tend to bother him, shove him into lockers—all that stereotypical NONSENSE you see in movies. ❝ i’m just pa-passing through. honest. ❞ he mutters out, green eyes locked on his tattered converse sneakers. ❝ did i d-d-do something wrong? ❞

He was tired of being stared at like he was some sort of zoo animal. Sure, he’d been kidnapped, missing for a long time, but that didn’t mean it was okay to ogle at him. He was still human, and he still had feelings. “P-p-please stop,” he muttered, hardly glancing their way. Their eyes bore into the side of his face, making him unease. “E-either I have someth-thing on my face or you ha-have a q-q-q—” Question. He was trying to say question.

“Am I in y-you-your way?” He forced out, eyes moving over the blonde before him. He recognized her as the ice queen’s daughter, one of the few children that possessed magic of their own. She had ice, something she could manipulate, he had magic hair that healed wounds. “I ca-can move.”

               he doesn’t know how to speak to her. she’s pretty, and not just the kind of pretty that makes you look twice. she’s the kind of pretty that makes you stop dead in your tracks and wonder if you ever even knew what the word beautiful had meant before that moment. the kind where people without a stutter found that they no longer knew how to form words. she’s that kind of pretty. 

he swallows hard, eyes darting around in search of something, anything, else to look at. ❝ i d-don’t—m-my na-na—i’m elias.❞ it’s hard for him to speak with people, to form words properly. he’s only been back in society for a few months, barely able to go outside alone, and now he’s expected to socialize?