#roisdevivre

yearning. @roisdevivre

she's not good at this. she never has been.

artemis a. crock is her father's child. she's brash, feels intense feelings--- but refuses to verbalize them. it comes to her naturally, the urge to bury all non-surface emotions is one she feels for all things. positive--- negative--- somewhere in-between. they are all buried deep down in her gut, only allowed to come out in bursts.

normally, a question like this might make her shut-down. normally, she might make some deflective comment. change the subject to something that was easier for her to swallow--- but not tonight.

tonight, huddled by the fire, artemis shifts uncomfortably. pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders, as she considers the question. yes, of course there were pieces of her heart missing--- but she's not sure it's in the way he means. the intimacy of his question leads her to believe that he was a romantic. she's not sure if the something missing was something she would ever be able to obtain.

"yes." her answer is firm, quiet. it takes a moment for her gaze to find his;; an uncomfortable, sad smile painting her expression as she finally does. that's the most she can answer for herself--- not without acknowledging the growing pit in her stomach. but it doesn't stop her from being curious about him.

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👥 The relationship between our muses

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"Dat one."

Instead of a familiar perched nearby, Caesar's desk had a different occupant - a goblin. This goblin was a foot tall, with pale brown fur and darker facial features. With short, upright ears and a long, fluffy tail, she could almost be mistaken for a cat at a glance. Fortunately, her off-white shawl and tattered dress made it clear that it was not merely an animal that had hopped through an open window.

(Instead, it was a creature that had snuck in, but that was a problem to solve later.)

The goblin had crawled just far enough across the desk to reach across and point at one of the books that had been opened haphazardly. To her, it looked like a spell book. It had words, and that was always helpful. It had some small doodles on the page as well. It reminded her of her King's spell books. This wasn't one of them.

...

Hopefully it wasn't. She was going to be in a lot of trouble if it was.

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This was it. The moment they had been waiting for all night. The hosts were about to announce the winner of the Beat Vs Beat (BVB) competition. Weeks of practicing, followed by nights and nights of performing in front of judges had all led to this. Harlequin Carnival and Caesar were both in Top Three, but there could only be one winner.

Johannes slapped Aatos on the back, giving his slender shoulders a shake that made him feel as if his bones were rattling. He smiled at the older Finn, watching the hopeful gleam in his eye. They'd worked hard to get here. Even if they didn't win, they'd been offered gigs all over London. The competition had shoved them in the right direction.

With a deep breath, he turned his eye towards Caesar as they waited in the darkness of the wings. His fingers were flexing at his side, balling into fists and splaying out. Aatos could tell he was nervous, despite his stoical expression of indifference. Biting the corner of his lip, he reached out and gently took his hand and gave it a careful squeeze.

"May the best man win," he said softly, a small smile catching the corner of his blue eyes in the low light.

Secretly, and quite traitorously, Aatos hoped that Caesar won. He was a talented solo musician. Singing was a skill in itself, but playing piano without being distracted by the melody while trying to remember lyrics and follow sheet music was something Aatos could never dream of doing. He could just about manage playing a guitar at the same time as singing.

Caesar was a born star.

And stars should have an opportunity to shine for all to see.

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'No...'

The single syllable, two letter word circled his mind like an echo in an abandoned house. He'd been so sure of it at the time, even if his voice had trembled and his heart dropped like a stone into his shoes.

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There was something about late night thunderstorms that had always unsettled Aatos. Even as a young child, he'd flinch at the flashes of lightning and cower at the rumble of thunder. He didn't know the reason why.

In his frightened state, his Mummo would cuddle up beside him and tell him stories of Giants playing Mölkky in the clouds with the Gods. They would hurl boulders at the mountains so hard they would flash with the impact and crack into a thousand pieces. The next time, she would tell him that Thor was up in the sky, making a show of light for the mortals to show how mighty he truly was. The stories helped, but the fear would always return.

The wind howled around the tour bus, the rain hammering against the metal roof so hard that it drowned out Johannes' snoring. With every clatter of thunder, Aatos felt his heart beat just a little faster. His imagination started to paint a grim picture. They were inside a metal box. If lightning struck them, they'd all be fried alive, wouldn't they? He didn't want to die. Not yet.

A bright flash lit up the aisle between the bunks on the bus and Aatos propped himself up onto his elbow with a gasp. His blue eyes searched the cabin wildly, waiting for that inevitable roar of thunder. It sounded as if it was going to break the earth beneath their feet in half and swallow them up. The bus creaked and shook with the wind and he found himself getting dangerously close to hyperventilating.

In the bunk across, he could just about make out Caesar's outline curled up awkwardly in the cramped space. "Caesar?" he whispered desperately, trying not to make too much noise but still trying to be heard over the din. "C-Caesar, are you awake?"

Receiving no reply, Aatos felt his mouth go dry. Then, as another lightning flash lit up the entire bus, he reached out to him without thinking and took his hand. He closed his eyes tight, letting out an involuntary whimper as the thunder rolled overhead. His hand was warm against his clammy palm, his thumb tracing against his knuckles to try and distract from the terror spiralling in his mind.

The next thing he knew, he felt a squeeze against his palm and he looked up to find Caesar gazing at him through the gloom. His voice was soft, full of concern and affection. Aatos couldn't answer, too scared and embarrassed to reply. The next thing he knew, Caesar was crawling out of the bunk and gently coaxing Aatos aside to give him room to settle beside him.

Caesar's free hand deftly stroked his face, his brown eyes barely visible but the whites shimmering in the gloom. "It's okay," His voice was warm against his ear, the hand that had caressed his face resting on his chest to feel his fast heartbeat. "I'm here."