#tragicale

⸙ did it?   jane couldn’t remember the last time someone seemed so genuine in their speech.   most times and worst times the words of another were calculated, or so lizzie liked to remember her kind heart often.   and yet his carried some deep connection that made her teeth be shown as well, a rarity for one so peculiarly shy.   how could it be explained in a way that did not erase her fortunes?   to be the family’s jewel was to be polished to impossible perfection — yet sold so easily, nevermind what feelings laid inside chest like locked butterflies.   thus most stares and whispers were of cruel or curious nature, never too deep and always shallow enough like the stream that ran by their house.   friendships were not welcomed by her mother who adored remembering her role as the oldest,   the prettiest — though in jane’s opinion her sisters were much more lively than she could ever be — and unfortunately, the closest to the sun.

How rich. He glances at the other over his goblet before he takes a drink, gulping down about a quarter of the liquid in it before he even thinks about speaking. The new title of the High King of Faerie still weighed on him, and it felt like half of his people were just waiting for someone else to step in. And maybe they were. He had other things to worry about, namely, a year of control under Jude. “ Really? You should try telling my people that. ” He says rather sarcastically, an eyebrow raised at James before he takes a much smaller drink from his goblet this time. “ I think, perhaps, they were expecting my brother. They might have even been happier with him, too. ” The mulled wine was making him bold, though he has a feeling he won't necessarily find this to be a good thing. “ And what do you think? Were you hoping for Dain to take the throne? ”

TRISTAN POSSESSED A CONSCIOUS AWARENESS THAT, TO THE REST OF THE WORLD, THE REALITIES OF HIS LIFE WERE UNFATHOMABLE. that didn't, however, stop him being utterly exasperated every time somebody acted as such. then again, tristan had never excelled in the art of patience and never truly endeavored to make an effort to understand the perspective of others. to do so would inhibit him in his work – although he knew perfectly well that wouldn't make a difference. even were he not bound to his profession, tris was perfectly aware he would distance himself from others anyway, ambitiously. he'd regarded the other man with such impatience for this very reason, for as paltry a time as he'd looked in his direction. never mind that the wine cellar in which he found himself – below the first home he'd stumbled upon when he realized he wouldn't last much longer on his feet – probably belonged to @tragicale. the man with the weapons in these situations ( read: him ) in the end, was usually correct by default anyway.

" you don't say. " his voice remained remarkably flat, given the circumstances, as he focused on running the end of a needle through the flame of his lighter without so much as glancing at james again. reaching into his wrinkled ziplock bag of supplies for his fishing line, he unspooled it and ripped a piece off with his teeth, tied a knot in the end, then fed it through the needle's end with the precision of somebody who did it daily. " if stating the fucking obvious were an olympic sport, you'd probably win a gold medal. congratulations. " without flinching, he removed the cloth pressed to his abdomen, now properly doused in sickeningly dark red. a pause, then, before tris frowned, sighed, and dumped the remainder of the mini-bar bottle of vodka over the open wound. he'd hoped to drink that. his voice remained remarkably steady as he began to stitch. this wasn't his first rodeo, after all. " now, unless you're planning to prove to me you know your shapes and colors real good, too, fuck off and let me work. "

@tragicale's : james farrow, sent a meme, from the prompt here ! for, seph mccauley.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ" when was the last time you actually got some rest? "

IT'S HARD TO FORGET THAT FEELING: LIKE YOU CAN'T DIE FAST ENOUGH ! it was only a dream back then- when he was still a kid- and then it wasn't anymore. and though it's been years since . . . seph can't find himself free of it; gregory still has his talons in joseph, even long after the boy had rid this world of the former headmaster.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ " ... i'd rather not answer that. "

when   it   came   to   doing   anything   adventurous   or   different   ,   gillian   was   always   the   one   ready   to   take   the first  leap.   the   youngest   owens   sister   had   been   trying   to   escape   the   dreariness   of   her   old   ,   massachusetts   town for as long as she can remember   ,   doing   anything   that   could   remotely   entertain   her   or   distract   her   from   her   less   than   adventurous   life.   the   moment   she   turned   eighteen   ,   she   ran   off   with   a   man   she   barely   knew   ,   but   once   that   romance   ended   ,   she   continued   to   travel   from   state   to   state   ,   having   no   interest   in   returning   to   the   home   where   her   aunts   &   her   sister   still   remained.   oh   ,   how   she   wished   sally   would   have   joined   her   ━━   no   doubt   the   two   of   them   would   have   had   a   blast   trying   new   things   &   enjoying   places   that   has   never   once   heard   of   the   owens'   family   name.   unfortunately   ,   sally   was   the   more   practical   of   the   two   sisters   ,   &   she   would   rather   remain   at   home   &   continue   to   try   &   have   a   normal   life   despite   their   upbringing   ,   a   fact   that   gillian   will   never   understand about her sister.   still   ,   they   write   often   &   when   she   told   sally   that   she   would   be   starring   in   a   play   for   the   very   first   time   ,   she   didn't   even believe   her.   her   disbelief   only   made   gillian   smile   all   the   more   ,   determined   to   show   her   sister   just   how   far   she   was   willing   to   try   new   things.

         ❛   afraid it comes with the territory,   mister farrow.   ❜   there are too many opportunities for one to prick themselves upon grey hollow;   the girl herself forgets she too can catch her finger on a barbed edge.   between her teeth are two ball-point pins as her hands were thoroughly occupied with a needle and thread until the blood began to well.   it is with a hiss she further acknowledges the injury.   surveying the damage,   it looked worse than it felt,   which was frequently the case with sewing related wounds.   having already invited enough hazards for the day the pins are removed from her mouth and laid on the wayside.   

         ❛   it's nothing,   just a little sting now there would be real hell to pay if i got blood on this costume.   ❜   she is crouched before the player upon a stool.   a means to diminish her stature so she may survey each hemline and measure for adjustments.   abandoning her perch she sifts through her materials crate until she comes upon a box of bandages.   dressing the punctured skin is second nature to her,   quick work,   there are several plasters on her other hand from prior misgivings.   ❛   i'd have to remake the trousers from scratch when opening night is less than a week away.   i may be here often but costumer is only one of many hats i wear.   ❜   this jesting tone is also typical,   cordial yet revealing nothing.   

         ❛   i don't think you and the rest of your lot could afford my overtime rate.   ❜   as if they were paying her a cent to begin with.  

tk stays still,   obedient under the actor's careful ministrations.  a sheepish smile moves his lips up as he follows the finishing touches of his work,  the bandage now firmly in place around his hand.  he truly hadn't meant to start his usual shift at the school dripping blood on the graveled path to the infirmary,  but @tragicale had been nothing but graceful about it.