#baselines

Vert (Green) - Hope, Joy and Fidelity. #5 from [♠]

I think it'd be easily understood that if Ric had a wish for the future, even if he could use it on himself, it would be for Vaza without question or really any consideration. He'd likely wish for her to have all her power but none of the burden or uncertainty that comes with the Prince's influence. He'd want her to be able to live a life without any shackles or chains that could limit her. Short of a wish, he's already looking to make that a reality through less abstract means and pursues the threads that might help him unravel the Prince's hold on her. If he can't do that with science then he'll just jump into Hell and fight the devil Herself.

Sable (Black) - Constancy and Grief. #5 from [♠] "I'm not an idiot. I know I'll be missed. Deeply so, by the ones that knew me and loved me best. Just as I know that in other circles, should the day come that Nald'Thal decides to drag my ass to hell kicking and screaming, they'll relish in my passing and hope I suffered along the way. I've done a lot of good, but I've done a lot of bad. Shit, sometimes I did bad better. For the ones it was for, it was all worth it. The good and the bad. The ugly and the beautiful decisions I've made. They say the path to hell is paved with good intentions, and there's a whole lot of asphalt with my name on it. One thing is certain: for better or for worse, I'm one hell of a mother fucker to try and forget. Legends don't fade, and I won't either."

Caelric's guiding principles have often been a prevailing sense of duty and loyalty to those he considers close and persistent self-control. It's not entirely something he thinks about on a conscious level, but he is driven by a need to feel useful. Having spent a lot of his life as a prospective tool, he resents showing any sort of weakness around people he thinks need to rely on him.

As for control, he's often seeking it in some fashion. He's strict with himself and what he allows himself to do. Doesn't spar or fight others for fear of losing himself to the violence. Avoids laziness, stays busy or keeps his schedule full to avoid any dead space where he's given too much time to think.

He has to prepare and plan around every aspect of his life, or brace for the impact of something down the line because if he pauses for a second, the Universe might strike and take something while he wasn't vigilant enough to keep it at bay. Or at least that...used to be the case.

Both feelings still fester from time to time, but Vaza has been an immense aid in soothing a lot of those worries for him. It hasn't been easy, but years of practice and lots of patience has calmed some of the anxieties that kept him constantly alert and mentally on the move, looking so far ahead he forgets to enjoy the present.

He's learning to let go a lot more and starting to explore what he wants out of life instead of constantly tending to the needs of others. She encourages him to think about himself more and helps him work past the feelings of selfishness when they aren't necessary or accurate. She makes him a little less afraid to admit that he wants things other than approval which is...still scary. There's no judgement between either of them though and that safe space she provides for him is what challenges him the most.

From: 7 Colors of Medieval Heraldry {x}

Mentions: @vazaymir

Well. This is his canon alignment. So accurate. A lot of Caelric's moral decisions are based around convenience, impact, and long term benefit with a few lines he won't cross.

Tagged by: @vahalia-cress (Thanks!)

Tagging: @vazaymir/ @noble-and-damned, @glowinggunmetal, @dumb-hat, @kestrelvylbrand, @luck-and-larceny , @argentrenard , @the-sycophant, @shadesofblades

The second question was an easier one to answer than the first, and the answer that immediately came to mind is what he gave. "I can't stand hypocrisy. It's irritating, and more often than not restrictive. 'It's fine if I do it, but not if you do'. 'This is a problem for everyone else but me'. So on, so forth. It gets old."

PROMPT: Send 🎵 plus a muse and I will share a song from their playlist & some lyrics that stand out [♠]

Take these plastic people Read their lips, now let it linger Is there anything that makes them sound sincere? Tightly hold your hand Take a deep breath, give them the finger Are you worried That your thoughts are not quite clear? Overlooked, unfit appearance

ᴘᴏᴠ: ᴄᴀᴇʟʀɪᴄ ᴊᴇɴ ꜱᴘᴀᴛʜᴀ (18) | ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ɢᴀʀʟᴇᴍᴀʟᴅ - 10 ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ᴀɢᴏ... ꜰʀᴏᴍ: 64 ꜱᴇɴꜱᴏʀʏ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ | ᴠɪʙᴇꜱ

The distant thumping of electronic drums and synthetic sound drew him in like a moth to the flame. He'd been wandering without direction nearly a malm away, mind at an unrest until he'd heard the music and had seen the brilliant array of lights. Before long, his boots followed a path that had him entering a portion of the city technically forbidden to him as an enlisted soldier in the Imperial army.

Such areas were looked down upon, and yet despite the expectation of his conduct, it was not uncommon for officers to embrace the territory in secret anyways. This for him would be a first. As the street lamps overhead shifted from fluorescent yellows and ceruleum blues, fading into into sinful crimson glows, he knew he had crossed over into a place previously unexplored to him.

Regio de Rubrum Luminaria...

Here was a place where decorum came to die, though it was not entirely the dredges of society. Every building held some form of promise in glowing, neon signs that read 'Open'. Discount alcohol was offered at one place, while the scent of something medicinal and improperly used wafted from the darkness of another.

Artful silhouettes amidst the act of seduction were painted along buildings, while dancing figures in scant clothing beckoned from inside windowed displays. If not to him, then to anyone else that might be wandering by. He stopped by one such building with 'XOXO' along its doorway, bigger than the rest but still small enough to remain discrete if it truly wanted to. (It didn't.)

He decided it was worth his curiosity to check out, and he had no intentions of passing it by. Little else held his interest here. There wasn't a substance on these streets or any other that could conceivably make a dent in his altered biology that wouldn't immediately kill a normal person. Something he imagined might be relatively bad for any business, illicit or otherwise.

He drifted into the glowing building as if on a breeze, nearly stunned by the overwhelming assault upon his senses. The music had been loud outside but in here, it pounded into his skull and thumped against his chest with an absurd intensity. Floral scents in an abundance too heavy to fully differentiate intermingled with that of the flushed, sweaty bodies dancing in the center of the floor, and doing whatever else he could tell was going on in the back rooms just out of sight. Gyroscopic lights painted everything in shades of ruby and magenta- the first time he'd seen so much color in abundance.

Most things he saw in various shades of grey, able to distinguish all but the closest by those differences alone but red had become delightfully prominent after the procedure. The first time its color became a part of his visual cortex, he'd sprinted to the nearest Handler and asked them what it was. The more full the color, the better he could distinguish it, but everything here was bathed in its brilliant glow.

He couldn't focus on anything for too long, including his own thoughts but at this hour that was more blessing than curse. Any thought keeping him up this late was intrusive at best, and better left ignored. Still, he had never been this exposed to such intensity of sight and sound outside a combat zone, and it was likely clear to anyone watching that he was a man out of his depth.

Maybe that was why she took pity on him, a woman who's name he had never asked for and one she had never given. Taking his hand where he had merely stood frozen, and leading him away from the crowd to somewhere private, and isolated. Until all he could really hear was her giggles whenever he told a dumb joke. He'd managed a few by the time she'd closed the door. Not that he remembered anything that he'd said at the time.

He remembered soft lips however, and tender touches drifting lightly over his trimmed scalp. He remembered kinder words than he'd been used to, and the expressed desire to protect whatever innocence hadn't been trained out of him by then. Said she'd seen it in his eyes the moment he'd stepped in. He remembered hating that, citing it a weakness but she dismissed the notion and called them a window instead. He remembered staying fully clothed as she calmed him with reassuring whispers and took him to bed. Such gentleness had lulled him quietly to sleep, as did the soft, red glow…