#xbasilrp

「 ❊ It wasn’t that Carlino was entirely shocked by the letter held in his hands. Antonio was famously kind and hospitable, and if he really thought back, he did distinctly remember mentioning that he would love to visit the country in the new year and explore the cuisine and sights in earnest. To be invited so plainly, however, had the dual effect of extreme relief that he wasn’t imposing his company and also a blinding excitement - for a nation so close in so many ways, Carlino had so few opportunities to travel westward. Never mind the literal hundreds of dinners they’d had together, the chaos of their families generally disallowing any kind of real interaction between the two of them. Carlino was on the phone in moments, still reading over Toni’s words as if his eyes betrayed them, free hand twirling the curly cord of his landline between thin fingers.

“Toni? Uah-! Scì, it is Carlino. ... Oh, very, very well. I j--just got your letter an I ww-was wo-- Oh! ... Yes, I would love to. ... Two weeks from now? This is okay, yy-you are positive? Wonderful!”

And when Carlino embarked just a few weeks later for Spain, he chose to drive. More than a day, yes, but with a stop to see Cecile and Francis on the way and a chance to drive his vintage Porsche along the coast, he was the last person to complain, and would much rather avoid the anxious mess he became after flights. Toni did not deserve a trembling ball at his door - and planes had such a special way of stripping Carlino clean of any calm energy he clung to.

With that in mind, what did arrive at Antonio’s door on a sunny Spanish afternoon was a positively beaming Carlino, breezy long sleeve button down tucked into fitted light brown shorts, knotted with gold chains that had tangled in the wind. Sunglasses were pushed into his mess of curls to keep the worst of it out of his eyes, and with a few pets to the cloud around his head and a laugh in the sideview mirror to keep his hair under control, he was bounding to Toni’s front door.

You know that I had to do Hellen I just love a sea-motif milf I mean. you understand

“You would rather have gone on feeling nothing, emptiness and silence; the stagnant peace of the deepest sea, which is easier than the noise and flesh of the surface.” 

Margaret Atwood, “Eurydice” 

“I long to reach my home and see the day of my return. It is my never-failing wish.  And what if one of the gods does wreck me out on the wine-dark sea? I have a heart that is inured to suffering and I shall steel it to endure that too. For in my day I have had many bitter and painful experiences in war and on the stormy seas. So let this new disaster come. It only makes one more.” 

Homer, The Odyssey [tr. E.V. Rieu]

“It’s important to always be by the sea. The sea is the element of love. The Greeks say so. Aphrodite emerged from the water.”

... Oh, that's what they mean by cake! Very romantic of you.

It had felt like a punch to the gut when Romulus had learnt that his wife of his past life was still alive. Not only that, but she was still alive and did not want him to know. It brought forth many complicated emotions for him, as he had not exactly been searching for this information at all and had already grieved the loss of her from his life. Funny that they had both persisted in this state of constancy.

It didn’t take him long after learning of her existence to coax out information on where Hellen was, her address, and her schedule from those who were still in contact with her. He had contemplated whether seeing her was a good idea or not, but regardless of any decisions of logic he knew that he had to see her face again. So he set off on an odyssey of his own, off to the island of Naxos- a place that he had not gone to since his time as an growing Republic. 

Within a week, Romulus was at Hellen’s doorstep. His heart was pounding out of his chest with nerves, and he cleared his throat several times before even thinking about knocking on the door. He had no idea how he was going to react when he saw those sea-green eyes again. Would she even recognise him? Would she still think him handsome? Was this all a mistake? He had probably stood there contemplating these questions for upwards of half an hour.

[Francis just.... hands Toni a glass of wine.] 

observe / @xbasilrp / accepting (pls)

1844

They spend a lot of time together. It isn't really surprising, given the circumstances, that they are one another's constant. Sometimes, he is alone; Elias has never been one to sit back and watch these wars from the sidelines, as often as Eirik would ask him why it was that he had to go. But, despite his pleas never really getting anywhere, Eirik was always there when he returned home — and small hands are much too adept at bandaging wounds, now. Eirik is a constant for Elias to come home to at the end of it all, and Elias is a constant for Eirik to wake up to when he is at home in the first place. It's comforting.

But there are good days and there are bad days. Eirik's recovery has been slow and arduous, and he knows that Elias had not come out of 1814 unscathed. The problem is, those are wounds Eirik cannot bandage. He knows; he has them too, after all.

On his bad days, he is entirely confined to bed — those are the difficult days. But on his good days, he is able to rise for a few hours, change clothes and get some fresh air. Today is one of his better days. He is still incredible frail, and it's almost unheard of for him to be well enough to leave the confines of their home. But they make do — on sunny days like this one, they pull a chair up to the window and Eirik sits right in the sunbeams.

Elias isn't far, either. When Eirik looks up from his book, he can see him through the kitchen doorframe, hands busied with rolling out pastry. For a minute, Eirik just watches him, before looking to the book in his hands — a book discussing trade associations in Iceland, and how they connect to Danish rule.

Although some things are exactly the same, other things had been changing. His people have begun pushing for more independence while under Denmark, and Eirik himself has felt an unfamiliar desire for freedom growing inside of him.

It isn't that he doesn't love Elias, and isn't grateful for everything that he does for him. Elias is his constant, his home, his heart... And he loves him.

But time changes everything.

Elias has been the best, and he has been the worst. Denmark had given Iceland so much and taken away so much, too. He has been hope, and he has been fear. Although there have been times where Eirik has cried into his pillow because of him, he is Eirik's best friend. He's family, and Eirik loves him more than anything.

Sometimes, he wonders if he hates him, too.

There are times when he wants to run away from him. When the shame grows to be too much, and all Eirik can think to do is shut down. For may years after the eruption, Eirik outright refused to speak, and would stare vacantly at the ceiling despite Elias' attempts to coax him around.

But at the end of the day, he would come right back. Denmark rules Iceland, and Eirik loves Elias. Denmark is his home at the moment, even if he has a home that waits for him across the sea. He is his family, and he would move heaven and earth for him.

Unlike Eirik's, Elias' hands are warm. The pastry dough clings to them, just a little.