#ryyena

text meme : accepting !!

✆ morning text :

[ txt : bossy-pants ] good morning !![ txt : bossy-pants ] are we still on for lunch at 10am?

✉ text not sent : 

[ txt : bossy-pants ] im glad you stuck by me.. message deleted ..

@ryyena

it always surprises him how long people seem to want to take on his appearance when they are putting his outfit on him, or fixing his hair. he could very well do all of this stuff by himself, like a big boy, but the uniform his mother wants him to wear for the debutante ball tonight is over-complicated and intricate, and if he wrecks it she might have him murdered. so she orders him to just stand there and let a few professionals fit the clothes around him, layering him with cloth like icing on a cake. he likes fashion and he likes getting new clothes, but he'd much rather choose his own garments-- he feels like he's old enough for that.

for all the grandiosity of his suit however, somehow he is still struck with the sensation of being under-dressed as soon as he sees yena approaching the limousine. they're only a few minutes away from arriving together at the ball and he can't tell if he's nervous or excited about showing up there with her on his arm. all this fluff and pomp might actually be worth it if he can maybe keep her near to him. he reminds himself to breathe and to keep breathing (it's important) before he gets out and opens the door for her, bowing a bit as she comes within ear-shot. "you look amazing, my lady" he tells her before swallowing hard and blinking a few times, trying not to look dazzled by her.

because that would be stupid.

@ryyena​

‘i can see that from the four messages you se–’, no, that was too cruel. she backspaced her reply for the third time. how was she supposed to answer something like this? what was he expecting, sending this all of a sudden? running the pad of her thumb up and down the side of the sleek device, she finally let out a loud whine of frustration, tossing herself back against the lounge she was seated on. for a brief moment, she considered just ignoring the message altogether - but quickly shot down that idea. it felt wrong to brush him off when she clearly didn’t want to. with a deep and defeated sigh, she typed up the best response she could think of. he wouldn’t be able to mock her for this, right? ‘ditto.’ oh, goodness. her gaze refused to leave the little bubble that indicated she actually sent this abomination of a reply. what on earth was she thinking? ‘you looked cool today, i saw the photos.’ this was just getting worse. she needed to stop trying to salvage this. this was a mess.

d  i  t  t  o.....

did she really just send that to him? he blinks at the reply for a full minute before bursting into laughter, unable to stop himself from rolling over on his bed. sometimes her naivete could be ridiculous, and then other times it was just downright adorable. what in the world is she thinking, sending him that, after the five messages he's just sent her? that's it? that's all he gets?

when her second text comes in, he reads it a few more times, and if he's honest with himself, he feels a swell of pride about it. he goes through a lot to look as good as he does in photos, even the candid ones, the unexpected ones. you never know who may be watching, when or from which angle, so someone like him-- a crown prince like him-- has to be on his game, looking sharp at least 98% of the time.

and he likes that she's noticed, even if she's just placating him.

[ -> yena ] ‘diito’ wow, did we just step into 2007 [ -> yena ] you certainly have a way with words duchess, i’m smitten [ -> yena ] wished you were there, it would have been more interesting [ -> yena ] {image attachment} dont i always look cool tho yena-ssi [ -> yena ] but seriously how long has it been since you left the house

@ryyena​

the specs sit low on his the bridge of his nose, his eyes sleepy but not closed yet, and he runs his thumb against the edge of the book he has tilted in his lap. the words flow in and out of his head, like notes in a song drifting around his ears without form or melody. it's been a long day, stresses and duties weighing his shoulders down like chains, but if he sleeps now, he knows he'll be awake in the middle of the night with nothing to do and nowhere to go. it's his one hour of freedom before dinner, 3,600 seconds and each one is ticking by as though he is in the center of a blackhole.

perhaps he is. but at least he's summoned the only entertainment that he has been allowed for the last month or so, the household staff keeping a keen eye on him for his mother's sake. she wants to see him happy, but she wants him to stay pinned down, and she doesn't seem to understand that those two things are impossible to reconcile in him. both his parents are interested in this arrangement between him and.... this girl, but neither of them have given him a formal directive, there's nothing about his newly forced relationship becoming official.

they just really really like yena. if he's honest, he likes her too, but the fact that nothing is certain and nothing is announced yet leaves him on the fence. or wishing for the fence.

when she finally arrives, he looks up at her but doesn't lift his head, taking in the sight of her figure as she stalks towards him across the library. she is quite a beauty, lithe and light and soft in all the right places. she is a glass doll, approaching a bull, but he assumes she doesn't know just how close he comes to breaking her with every exchange they hold together. he's known her well enough by now to understand that she has a lot of heart in her, something that time with him will no doubt burn it out of her chest, but for the time being he likes simply teasing her, toying with her, playing that he's seriously considering accepting any declaration of love she might give to him.