#drifting clouds || queue

( @aquaticsoul , haya ) ->

"I would like to have a word with you, Lord Pilvi. Spare me a moment?"

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ The voice that calls out to him is not Opettaja but at the same time it is. He's come to find him and everything about him is all wrong. Posture upright, hands not twisting or fidgeting nervously into whatever loose fabric they could find. There is a shine to a cyan river he hasn't seen in a long time and the most striking of all are the way blue eyes glow when he looks at them. Glow like Sielu is accessing his soul through their methods of calling for power but there is just something about his eyes that tell the younger this is not a soul tap.

The speech pattern is all wrong too. In this library where no one else rests and these four walls seem to enclose only the two of them. Not even Revon as he just sent the man to go check on Aamunkoitto and Valo for a moment so it is - it is only the two of them and it's whoever this is because it is not his Aqua.

A twist in his gut tells him he should know however. There is something about looking deep into the pools of the glowing irises looking back at him that urges the stardust in his veins to life. He - knows this person but he swears on his life they've never met before, even if a voice in his head tells him they have.

It's in the way he carries himself now and the inflection in that beloved voice that calls him Lord. Sielu never addresses him so formal and when he does it is largely done so in a joking manner. Even the Sielu he knew from days long past before the fall of their home - this is not his Aqua.

"Of course." He sounds with raised brows as he marks the place in this book and closes the tome in his lap. His hand raises to motion to the chair in front of him as his lips set in a small frown.

He's left a note on the puffball's door with a doodle of a bird on it and the text: "For every hour you don't practice, this bird gets more sad."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He knows the handwriting. He'd know that scratchy mess of letters anywhere and even if no one else would think twice about the innocence of this note - his mind is spiraling as he can hear the voice of that little demon child floating into his ears again.

"For every hour you're not at my side, you forfeit twenty of their lives."

He's tearing the note down from his door trying to keep his anger in check because he knows he didn't mean anything by it. He knows there was no ill will behind it. He knows. There's no way Opettaja could know how deep he's drowning in debt by choosing to be here. There's no way Opettaja could know that he's actively destroying Wonderland by continuously choosing his own freedom over the torture of living with that beast.

He wants to shred the paper into ribbons but it won't accomplish anything, so instead his shoulders tense and he can feel ruby pink eyes on him as he stands there trying not to tremble. Memories are flooding and he doesn't know how to deal with this.

He can't do this. He can't do this and he needs to explain.

How? How he is supposed to tell him what that little brat reduced him to? He's going to blame himself, surely.

"Highness?"

Revon's voice is chiming behind him with concern, but the body of white can only turn around and start walking down the hall again. He stops at the sound of footsteps following.

"Go to Valo and Aamunkoitto." He sounds in a low command.

"Highness I am supposed - "

" - act in my best interest and I need to speak to Sielu alone. Please Revon. I won't leave without you, I am only going to speak to Sielu."

"What about Sinfonia?"

"I'll handle Setä if he's there, when I get there."

"I - understand. All you have to go is call for me, and I'll be at your side, My Liege."

"I know Revon. Kiitos."

So he's making his way down the hallways and twisting the corridors until he finds his way to the room of the pair of musicians. He's knocking at the door and slipping inside quietly with the paper still clenched in his hand.

( @aquaticsoul , for baby marshmallow ) ->

He already knows he's about to lose whatever battle he's facing when Pilvi comes into his classroom, already staring up at him with huge jade eyes that always make him cave sooner rather than later. Worse, he seems exhausted or close to tears - unsurprising given how difficult everyone makes this poor boy's life.

But it seems the prince isn't asking for much, as tiny arms just wrap around his legs and stay there.

With a fond sigh, he scoops up the child and holds him against his chest, both arms wrapped around the boy like this hug can fix whatever problems exist right now. He doesn't care that Pilvi is seven and getting a bit heavy to cart around. It doesn't matter how old his puffball gets. If his boy needs a hug, then Sielu's not ever going to deny it, especially not after what he assumes has been a hard day.

Even if he's seven years old now. Even if Sielu had definitely been getting ready to head home. Even if whatever Pilvi may or may not be upset over is a tiny child problem or (he hopes) just boredom or worry over asking for things (which he hates is present at all in this child).

Somehow he knows that even if he hadn't taken an oath to make Pilvi his number one priority, that wouldn't have changed things. He's sure that Pilvi would have been everything to him anyway. He won't say the boy is his son, but... well, he's close enough.

"Are you okay?" he asks, gently rubbing his leftmost horn on one of Pilvi's. "I know today has been long. What do you want right now?"

"I- Opettaja, can- I want- can we color?"

"Sure we can. That sounds fun."

He makes his way back in his classroom, pulling the desk chair out far enough so he can sit with Pilvi in his lap. It takes almost no time for him to retrieve a few crayons and some paper from one of the drawers, laying them out atop the surface of the desk.

"Alright. What are we going to color, maamuna? Does Revon know you're in here?"

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He does not like that man or the way he speaks to him. He gets meaner every year. He seemed alright when they first met but as time goes on and on, he's come to find that Piipsa Sumu is a mean man and he does not ever listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

Everyone is always making a big deal out of being 'The Celestial Mother's Sacrifice' but he doesn't even understand what that means. Well he didn't that was until Piipsa Sumu got in his face about it today and now he does not want to see that man ever again.

What does he mean by 'you will present yourself to her as a holy gift?' He does not want to present himself to anyone. He is no one's holy gift and being one sounds scary. Every day he gets a little more afraid and Father will not talk about it and Mother only dodges the issues.

Just because he's seven does not mean he isn't smart enough to understand. Even if Isoveli is constantly telling him how heavy headed he is. All he knows is Piipsa Sumu was very mad when he saw him pause to splash in the puddles left by the rain of the pass two days and there was a long conversation about what entailed his "proper conduct" and how above all else he needs to remember that he must remain pure.

He doesn't want to talk about it. He doesn't want to discuss the issue because if he does then it won't go away and he really just wants all of this to disappear like it's just a bad dream. Why doesn't he get to decide anything about all this sacrifice business? It involves him so shouldn't he get a say?

He's shaking his head at Opettaja Sielu's question while he lets himself settle into the man's lap and he picks up a crayon to start coloring whatever comes into his little mind on the page.

Kumo gets cloudnapped way too often and Kaze doesn't like it. He's stressed. The man is stressed. Please stop stealing his Other. It's rude and it's very stressful. So people (Chaos) can't steal him if he keeps him close.

( @ghostboy-291 would like to befriend the cloud ) ->

There are many oddities in this place. This world. It's not any sort of afterlife (he would know if he was there again), and yet this "Wonderland" has more ghosts than any other place he has ever visited. The boy has to wonder why it's called such a strange thing, but beyond that... He has other things to worry about. The warnings, mostly - things said by the scared townsfolk telling him to stay away from the White Devil. No rumors like that usually exist in full truth, and whatever or whoever the White Devil is... he is probably much better company than these people who drove him away and hate him. The eleven-year-old continues his awkward, hunched shamble alongside his friend, the little Mimikyu seeming content enough to help him search for this white mist everyone seems so afraid of. This Devil wasn't hard to find at all, if his assumption is correct. Sitting up in some tree, moonlight reflecting off of several brilliant crystal horns. He is white in every other aspect from what Allister can tell looking up at him, with the sword mentioned in some of those poems close by to boost confidence in his guess. He kneels to pick up the Mimikyu, debating whether to get the swordsman's attention or to wait for him to come down. His friend chooses for him, letting out a little series of chirps and 'kyu's to explain that answers will come easier from someone like this than someone in town. "... Mhm," he agrees. "You're... you're probably right..." Now the hard part. With a deep breath, he makes sure his mask is still on, totally obscuring his face. "I... Excuse me," he starts. "But..." How should he do this? The same way he usually does when he speaks to supposed demons. They've always turned out to be friends and they're usually just as scared as he is. "But... I um... I like your horns... Purple is... such a nice color. Um... my favorite." It's probably obvious, with how he is clad in purple from head to knee. His shoes and mask are white, of course, but his entire outfit otherwise is black and violet. It's common ground to build conversation off of, at least, if they both like purple. Anyone who gets cast out like this can surely do with having something nice said about them, and it's probably better if it seems genuine. If there's any sort of ghost or demon, Allister will be the one to befriend them. They are not bad. At worst, misguided... but usually just deeply misunderstood. A lot like himself. The living people are usually the cruel ones.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ "I like your horns." Is not a sentence the Misterican hears often, moreover ever in a place like this. A compliment to the color and a head of snow and porcelain is turning to drop jade moons down on the source of the voice. A small child of dark hair and the oldest face - no if he had to wager a guess that was just a mask. Most likely for protection but a different kind than his own provided.

If he had to wager a guess, it was to scare away any who may attempt to harm the boy, all considering the look of it. Perhaps this boy thought him the otherworldly. The boy's small friend had referred to him as 'someone like this' so that meant he was separating from anyone else the boy could have met in the town just a ways down the road.

Perhaps he heard the rumors then? Perhaps the boy thought him a demon... If so then why would he approach. He couldn't say he wasn't curious.

So the swordsman is swinging his legs around so they can hang off the branch he's perched upon and his hands can come down to rest on it at his sides.

"That's quite kind of you, young one." He begins as jade continues peer down at the youth before him. "Do you require something? Are you lost? That's quite the mask you have. Marvelous construction. Do you wear it for a reason?"

Still the man of snow does not descend from his perch but instead remains merely looking down from his place within the branches and the moonlight casting from over his shoulders.