#fauxiisms

A rare occasion leaves him pondering about things his mind hasn’t been able to grasp before. It feels strange; realizing that he has zero to none knowledge over someone the king had considered the individual closest to him as of late. Resting his head on one hand, he gaze turns towards the night sky, away from the area of the SCEPTER4 headquarters behind his office. The air feels brisky tonight & the window should be closed soon, unless he wants to avoid loosing the warmth inside. Yet, he reminds on his place resting against the sill, absentmindedly searching for constellations he was so familiar with when younger.

« How unusual. » Though there is a reason he has never admitted to, an intention to keep backstories out of their context for the sake of maintaining stability. Because he knows, knows very well, that there are many arguments to be everything else than close acquaintances ( lovers ? ), instead quite the contrary to be honest; enemies.

And so he avoids, walks around every subject that considered either of their pasts, opinions or just everything else that is not casual, daily conversation. That is not how it should be. He is well aware if it, & he recalls again when he finds himself in that situation he is at this very moment, lacking the smallest of ideas for something to give the other as a present. 

Such a rare occasion that it leaves him in lack of words for the things he has not been able to do to this very moment. It seems out of his usual character, but at the same time so very much like him-- for that work has always kept himself busy enough to not waste any more thoughts on what should have been just as important. . .

« Caspian, » the king suddenly speaks up & turns around to face the one he had been avoiding the past few days. Already far too late for any casual congratulations or halfhearted presents. So instead, he overcomes distance with a fast pace, corners the ( ever so slightly smaller ) male in a way that is more out of habit, something he does to intimidate is now used to make sure full attention his directed towards him. A sigh leaves parted lips as he leans down & tilts his head a bit, lilac stare upon questioning eyes. For a moment he appears conflicted, speechless--

« It is irrational & doomed. I am well aware of then & yet, still. . . that mind of mine I had always considered to be the most rational one

                 His wings ACHED against his spine, and he itched to be air born again. To feel the wind against his skin, the clear air in his lungs. Being grounded was any bird kid’s NIGHTMARE -- right next to dog crates and anything relating to the School, anyway. That doesn’t make this any less sucky. Plus, his stomach was too EMPTY for him to fly, anyway. Being a bird kid meant higher metabolism. Having a higher metabolism meant almost always being hungry. Which ALSO sucked. 

              Max told him not to, but Fang made a good point about them needing some cash. Unfortunately, money made the world go round, and they couldn’t steal their way through EVERYTHING without risking too much attention.

OOC.