#musebunch

Ancel considered the position of his mark both lucky and unlucky. Having it on the inside of his wrist meant it was easy to hide. Just wear a bracelet and no one was the wiser. The only problem was that sometimes he didn’t feel like wearing arm jewelry.

And he had to be mindful, otherwise he’d end up with a pale band of skin from lack of exposure. It was because of these troubles, he found the name bothersome. What sort of person could this Berenger be anyway?

To have never met them and already have such control over his choices. He didn’t like it.He wasn’t sure what he do if he actually met his soulmate.

          berenger’s mark was easy to conceal, too, for the simple reason that he always wore sleeves. & if anyone were to notice it, so what? in his younger days, he’d done a bit of prying, trying to find this ancel. he’d thought, in youthful ignorance, that his soulmate would be among the nobility. no such luck. in time, he’d accepted that if they were meant to meet, they would. he’d wait.

          & now the moment had come. berenger, usually so calm & self assured, had done something ridiculously impulsive. none of the other lords present had ever heard such an outrageous bid. even parsins, loyal to a fault, had raised his eyebrows when berenger had told him what he’d done. but he’d had to, hadn’t he? the man’s name was ancel.

Continued from  ✡.

⊰ Ꮗ .Ꮦ . ⊱─────                    The first sensation William registered was that his body had indeed stopped moving backwards with sudden velocity. The reason being, he discovered soon after, that he was on the ground. The blonde groaned as the soreness followed, the ache in his head and back. Really, he should have expected such a reaction from his emotional friend. It was his own fault for assuming he wouldn’t be tackled and practically hugged to death that he’d be sore for the remainder of the day. He sighed and nudged Isaac’s shoulder with a hand.

Ancel had been nearly asleep. Since he’d confessed to being illiterate, Berenger had taken it upon himself to read out loud to him when he could. Tonight it was a bedside story time. It was some tale about a witch and a princess or something.

It was a mixture of the dull story and Berenger’s soothing voice that had his eyes drooping closed. Ancel was completely relaxed into the bed when he felt soft lips on his forehead. That had him awake and alert like a splash of cold water.

“What was that?”

          “--what was what?” 

Ancel took a moment to answer, as if the man just barely registered on his periphery. His eyes glazed slowly over his form. It was a masquerade ball, at time to throw away your inhibitions under the guise of a mask. To be as wild and decadent as you pleased. And yet this man had come in the most plain suit and tie Ancel had ever seen.

“Yes, thank you. I’d been feeling a bit parched.” He’d been talking all night. Ancel took the glass the man offered. “Are you sure you’re not lost on your way to some other function?”

He’s been watching Ancel for quite some time, trying to think of a way to approach him. He’s not good at this sort of this, not good at socializing in general. If he’d had his way, he’d be at home right now, finishing the book he’s been reading -- NOT here. But it would have been rude to turn down the invitation, so he’s been standing off to the side for the past two hours, sipping champagne & religiously looking at the clock. 

& watching the redhead who’s been guest-hopping all night.