Today’s the day for another reinvention of Impey Barbicane! A new him, one that will surely win over the heart of the dear princess of the manor (if he hasn’t already). That’s right! He’s himself, a man that rises, without fail, that pushes the boundaries, the risks, all in the name of what’s important.

How can he not smile, when he’s being that true to himself?

“Allow the great Impey to really show you what it means to be a genius!”

Holding confidence in himself and never looking back – alright! – the past is in the past. He can easily live by such matter – yeah! – no matter what, he can’t reach the moon, or even the stars, without continuously propelling forward. He has support, mind you, because why wouldn’t his friends support him? He’s as reliable as his trusty wrench, and a billion times more cool! (Because, yes and yes, comparing yourself to any of your buddies, including inanimate ones, is necessary).

In order to really assert his drawn-in boosts, he pats his biceps -- the one on his exposed arm, mind you -- and totally... doesn’t mind Sisi nipping at his pant leg, at all! Well, you know -- c’mon, Sisi! -- he should be friendly!

It’s the crack of dawn, and already noisy, but that’s to be expected. There’s no telling if he slept much -- or if any of them did, really -- but they are vital and supportive and in this together, their own respectably misfit goals becoming one collective one under the angelic treasure upon this earth that is --

“Hey, hey, Sisi, I got it!”

What a relief it is, to see all of them gradually pouring in, with Impey once again returning to work on another joy of his (after washing his hands again) -- breakfast. Even if they’re sleepy, they can’t just skip a meal! And he believes in it, mornings like these, even if they aren’t all together in the end.

That the coming of an era where they can all boundlessly smile. They’ve got a bundle of burdens on their shoulders now, but in the future, he can only hope. Hope that they’ll reach their moons and whatever that entails. For now, let’s see a smile over a warm, home-cooked meal. Being a genius mechanic also means engineering up the best tasting food for energy! In... this case at least, but those are details, details, that are best left abandoned to allow the beauty of a rising sun to fill in.

“San-chan, would you look at that! She’s giving us her love for the day~!”

A~nd now it’s back to work! Don’t worry, my angel, everyone, we can do it!

A train, with one destination.

How he wishes he could have just stared into those eyes of hers, let the real, cruel world around them melt away – calmly, safely. He knows this kiss will be their last. He tries to genuinely communicate every once of love into into it, even if a taste of a lie can linger so. The world around her, he hopes it stays as warm as she is.

Even if he’s about to crash into cold, he wants to let her know, he loves her. He loves her  to the moon, back, and beyond. A fragile beauty, an angel, a beautiful and pure heart, hands that fit just right in his. Was he able to help her fulfill her wishes? Was he able to help her dream? Was he able to show her that the moon is closer than even he dreamed?

How gentle, how human she is. That’s why, that’s why he knows that this is right. Even she might be mad, even if she might be sad. He’s sorry, so, so, sorry. If he could have it happen, it’d stretch all over her, wrap her up and make sure she reaches safety. Twenty-thousand leagues deep and three-hundred, eighty-four thousandand four-hundred kilometers high, that’s how far his sorrow goes, his love goes. Probably further.

He promised her. She trusted him.

He likes to be reliable, a man of his word, but he knows all too well how this will end. All engines failed.

This train’s stop is not a happy one.

“Don’t come back here. You won’t be able to make it back it me. You need to go.”

“…Don’t worry. I’ll take care of myself. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you on the ground.”

Trapped here, on a one way ticket. Suddenly that kiss feels centuries away, as if as soon as he lied to her, he became a different person, a split soul. His lips rise bitterly, his world grim. Is this what it feels like to have the whole world freeze over? His shoulders tremble, his spirit shudder, as he rests against the pile of rubble, awaiting Lady Fate to take him.

Geniuses really do die young, huh, Nemo?

Maybe he said it aloud, maybe he didn’t. He wouldn’t have gotten an answer anyway. The Nautilus is going down, and fast. He closes his eyes. His hand still feels the pain of his reaches, to get back what belonged to her. That’s okay though. That was the least he could do for her, the woman he loves.

How does she feel now? Will she make it okay? Lupin, everyone, take care of our princess.

She’s brighter than any star I’ve seen…

Will she keep the name of the Cannon Club? Will she still love science? Will she live her life to her fullest? Death, truly is here to do them part, even before their vows settle in. The world will, hopefully, keep being blessed by her smile, one that fueled him more to the future, motivated him to work even harder, helped bring together a group of some of the best friends he ever had.

Sure, they won’t get his cooking anymore, but that had been the plan from the start, huh? He and Cardia were going to have a life together, after everything, she’d say, ‘Yes, Impey, I absolutely love you!!’ and they’d always be together, joined at the hip!

Well, he knows that wouldn’t be quite right, but he’s as devoted as they come. This... really is proof, isn’t it? His world became focused on making sure she could keep flying. How nice it’d be to bounce like usual, but that’s over.

He hopes they all eat well, and won’t let Van be the one behind the stove.

Good bye. ...It’s been fun.

The crash makes everything go white, the light would be blinding, if he could open his eyes. It’s as if the heaviest snow buries him, but he supposes that makes it like feathers, in this case. Even if it’s steel, even if it’s water, even it’s it whatever remains of the Nautilus, landing in the river.

It’s so cold.

Everything hurts. Everything. Is this the afterlife? What a discovery..! He’d be jumping, examining everything, if he was able to. But he’s not.

I hope… she’s okay.

She should be, since she trusted him, since she probably took the escape pod, since it’s her.

My angel, thank you for working with me, for believing in my dream! Together, we could’ve shot right for the moon! …Hehe, looks like you’ll have to do that without me, if you feel like it.

His thoughts keep rattling, and he feels sleepier, sleepier, though he hasn’t looked at the surrounds, he fills his image with her, her smile. She’s so beautiful, lovely, she deserves to live.

–Wait, wait, wait..!!! Is that a voice?

Ah, slowly, he blinks his eyes open. Despite being surrounded by a flurry of white, somehow, somehow he understands. Troublesome, but a genius gift to this world. Stronger than the average human, because the average human he is not.

Sifted from the binds that tie him, lifted from the world he knows, he chooses to follow the familiar, the friendly, his grin weakened, so weak it’s pitiable. Perhaps it’ll be bright again soon, when he knows, when he adjusts.

Impey Barbicane, brilliant engineer, vampire, the one that brought love to a girl with a tragic background, the one who saved London and the world from catastrophe…

…and a precious friend.

Frozen from the life he once lived, in stasis from the history he made, but remaining in spirit, in the hearts of those that adored him most.

{ ONE WORD PROMPTS (ACCEPTING) !

He’s done so much, in the wrong direction, so he’s not sure he… deservesto stay in the thoughts of people who are chasing good. Even if things arewinding down, life is turbulent. It’ll be alright, he assures them, he assures himself. Can he… do something for them,truly though? How about for her? Or is his fate that of someone whose burdensare too heavy to ever relent?

Everyone he knows shouldn’t have toheave anymore stress upon their shoulders. They, the ones that so kindly lookat him, the ones that have decided to trust him. Even when his face was postedall about the city, marked as an enemy of London, rumors of an evil plot andattack spinning about him, they took him in, allowed him to stay. The firstencounter had been a rather… highly-tense communication but now… he’s here. Yes,he’s here, able to see their smiles, the way their brows furrow, all the workthey’ve been doing, all the security they’ve given Cardia, him… What do you want to do?

I…

Somehow, he really thinks he’sfortunate. Fortunate to be able to try to provide even an ounce of assistance tothem, fortunate that they tolerate him. Messy had been their introduction, but here he is. He can’t help but get caught up in his late night thoughts, however. Whether or not he belongs, or if he even should be able to.

“Nay,” say the people around him, “You are welcome here.”  Welcomed… among these people. These proactive, able-bodied souls… relying on him. All know whispers of his face, a coward who fled. A creator of a most terrible weapon.

Obviously, he’s stuck. What do they truly think? Why do they place hopes with him? Do what he can… what he must… Fran… Victor Frankenstein, former head of the Royal Alchemy Department. He has many names, all encompassing him, who he is, who he was.

Time to… redeem himself? Yes, he doesn’t believe he can be forgiven, that he shouldn’t be forgiven, but he can’t leave things as they are. For the sake of the others, he’ll do everything he can… everything…

Ahaha... Impey’s works boom in the background, the thought of the budget comes to mind, and his eyes open fast enough to check the time and see that if Impey doesn’t get inside soon, Van might hit up the kitchen and prepare the meal instead. He can imagine Sisi jumping away from Delly and Cardia to jump at Impey’s ankles, because that little fellow needs to eat too.

Laden by it all does Fran trudge, but he stands, moving to join them. His... friends. Yes, he’s grateful, tiredness rests in his soul, clumsiness his hearts, and he knocks over his notebooks in the process. Does all the commotion stir Lupin from his quarters? It’s so often a table-set dinner with the entire household, the thought of that being more and more comforting to the young alchemist.

Only when he picks up one of books does the moment hit him, a flash of motivation of confirmation. It’s a collection of notes, stuffed in there. The handwriting varies, but Fran recognizes them all. He’s had them write down requested items before, so of course, he’d know the lines when he saw them. When... did these get in here, he wonders, but knowing Lupin in among them, they were likely expertly snuck in.

Nothing manages to stop the smile that forms as he reads through them, sitting in the disaster zone. They are warm, all reflective of the clear personalities they all have. Picking him up when he’s down, giving him a place to be. Does he doubt them? Should they doubt him, the coward? These... That’s right... There are things that I... All the letters, from each and every different stroke, is signed, Thank you. With, variation, of course. It wouldn’t be them unless they did that. And, ah, is that a paw print? Or spilled ink? No matter, truly, they warm his heart, give him a twinkle in his eye. Perhaps he’ll try a different experiment later -- there’s a formula to emulate happiness and -- no, no, think safer! Though, it wouldn’t hurt to...He shakes his head, gathering up everything the best he can, placing them on his desk to organize later. He mustn’t dawdle any longer. With his hands, he must work to heal, but now, is time for something else.

Everyone here is supporting him in that hope. Soon, they will go their separate ways, but this bond they have – they wouldn’t let him stay isolated. Progress will be made. Outlandish, ridiculous, amazing, this gang of mismatching standouts truly hold power in their hands. Comfortable, at ease, he, a softhearted man, chased by his past, causing trouble for all of them, spending most of their budget, is allowed to laugh alongside them. He’s glad, so so glad. Chin up! Words, from Cardia’s play back.

“I’’ll... always have questions, I think. And, Fran, there are some that only you can answer. I trust you, and... it’s really fun to hear you talk. Please, continue to teach me.”

He is not alone. Not anymore. And he’ll never be, again. As he steps into the foyer and heads to the kitchen, he sees Impey being chased bit by bit by Sisi. Everyone is settling in just as well. A hand goes on his shoulder -- Saint’s -- and the ever-welcoming count, the one that let him stay in his home, despite the target on his back, motions for Fran to take his seat.

Cold Starters

   “A-Ah, thank you so much. That is kind of you, but don’t you need it yourself? You’ll be cold, won’t you?” 

  Acting like he cares about a topic that he isn’t interested in wasn’t one of Hansel’s strong suits.  His eyes glazed over and his mind wandered to a far-off place.  Thoughts like, “What am I going to eat for dinner?” and “Did I forget anything when I went out today?” were much higher up on his mind than the conversation currently happening.

  Unfortunately, being a brick wall and deflecting all words isn’t a good tactic for socialization, so when the time came that he actually had to respond to Saint-Germain, he was left staring blankly at the man’s face.  Leaning more on his fork, he let out an almost monotone response, devoid of the warmth one would expect from a companion.

❝ ????????? ❞

This is not the first time such an expression of bewilderment crosses the young Princess’ expression, especially in the presence of the Lord and his friend. She keeps to her silence, honoring the fact this man has earned the respect of many nobles, and the one that mattered the most to her, her father? If they were close enough such that things the Lord said could be amusing to Saint, then he must surely be someone of high caliber.

That being said, she is still curious about the nuances across the conversation the two share. Thus, Raskreia follows after the departing man silently, choosing to speak once the Lord is out of earshot.

[ WONDER WOMAN (2017) SENTENCE MEME  ||  accepting! ]

♱ @sanjeruman​  //  saint & raizel

『  THE ILLNESS IS PARTICULARLY  』disarming tonight – so much that it took the greater part of Raizel’s senses earlier that evening, drowning his sight and hearing in a fit of dizziness so intense that he lost his footing completely on the stairs. Whatever disease is racking his body this time, it is much more than usual. 

But it was the king’s advisor, Gejutel, who carried him up the stairs and into his bed and called for the Lord to come. So why is Saint…?

Saint is right here, by his side, as the Lord makes a fuss outside Raizel’s door and demands to know where the doctor is and when he will be arriving to attend to Raizel. Though he is still half-delirious with the dizziness, Raizel finds himself wondering why they go to such great lengths to care for him. After all, it will all heal soon enough. 

(And another illness will come to replace it. He is never to be healthy… rather, Raizel fears the day that he wakes without a single ache in his body, lest his curse has decided to move on and to afflict not only him, but those around him.)

Raizel is used to this. He’s more than come to terms with the fact that this is the way he must live: his life wavering, all of his duties shoved aside whenever the curse takes its toll on his body, when it chooses to subside a puzzle to Raizel as much as anyone else. However, what Raizel finds even more alarming, much more than the blood on his cheeks, is… Saint.

❝ You are stronger than you believe! ❞  comes Saint’s voice, just audible above the low ringing in his ears; Raizel thinks he hears a quiver in the tone, just the slightest hint of uncertainty and fear. Though, he cannot be sure if it is a product of the sickness’s hallucinations or if it is very much real.

Saint, at his side and so distressed like this. It reminds Raizel of the time they went to town together, Saint tugging at his hand and unrelenting in his boyish determination – of the way that Saint’s face drained of all its colour when Raizel collapsed to his knees in the middle of town square that day, gasping and heaving for breath that he could not find. It was Saint that day who stumbled back to the castle, Raizel half-conscious on his back. To think Saint manages to make such a commotion over Raizel, each and every time… it’s somewhat endearing, and certainly an assuring thought.

❝ I am all right. ❞  Whatever has gripped his body once more, it will fade with time. The curse is not so forgiving to let him die so quickly, fuss as everyone might over his wounds. The smell of blood is overpowering (there is much more than he is used to, and from places that have not bled yet before like this). But Raizel cannot quite bring himself to worry.  ❝ Won’t you… won’t you tell the Lord not to fuss like this? ❞

Saint ought not to be so concerned over Raizel, either. There’s no use for worrying when this is such a regular occurrence. He wishes that Saint would save his mind for other things. Fun things, things that they will enjoy together later. Raizel prefers to see the smile on Saint’s face when they wander about the palace together, and when they stroll through the palace grounds and the gardens. Though he might grow bored of seeing the same flowers again and again, Saint’s smile and his laughter Raizel will never tire of. He would much rather see that smile, and to hear that delighted laughter so soft and pleasing to Raizel’s ears, than to see Saint anxious over him like this.

❝ I will be fine. So do not worry, Saint. ❞  When will Saint grow accustomed to this, he wonders? Saint is an intelligent young man; he should hear of the rumours soon. Should he tell Saint about it all sooner, rather than later?

… it’s too much to think about in this moment, even if Raizel thought himself strong enough to tolerate the aches all over. Still, the pain is great enough that he fumbles, searching until he finds Saint’s hand, has taken it in his own, and squeezes so tightly that he fears Saint’s hand might be bruised. He feels a little bad for it, but Saint is there, and he can’t bring himself to let go now that his fingers are intertwined with Saint’s.

❝ Raizel? ❞  The prince’s name is spoken, so quietly, almost as if it were a prayer.

And with that word alone, it all becomes just a little more bearable. To know that Saint is here, beside him, come what may – Raizel finds himself hoping, silently, that it can be this way for many years to come. Hopes that Saint will always be here, and that Raizel will always have his hand to hold when the pain is too much.

❝ Saint… will you stay with me? ❞  It is a selfish request, when he will have the Lord and the doctor by his side soon enough. This is no way for Raizel to present himself before Saint.

❝ Of course I will. ❞  And yet Saint is so willing to give himself to Raizel in ways like this. It is a burden much more than one than Raizel wants to put upon Saint. Nevertheless, he is thankful for his friend’s presence.