marionette

AND THEN, AS if he hadn’t said something absurd, cathal returns his focus to the rules of the game. he picks up the smaller of the two discs. “squidger and wink,” cathal muses, running his thumb over the surface. “now this definitely sounds like bedroom talk. is this game supposed to be a metaphor of sorts? a way for the repressed elite to work out their frustrations in public?” but it sounds straightforward enough, if tedious. he can probably do this and keep from failing entirely.

ONCE THEY’VE SHAKEN hands, cathal pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and moves towards the table, halting only as the gentleman asks him an important question--the most important question. “not at all,” cathal responds cheerfully. “i have no idea which game we’re talking about.” his intention is to do the best he can and trust in luck for everything else, though it would be smart to at least hear the instructions… and trust in luck anyways.

RETURNING THE SQUEEZE, cathal smiles, affection in his eyes. “parties are more trouble than they’re worth sometimes,” he agrees. this one is significantly more tame than he first expected, but it’s tiring none the less. cathal’s likely been here for a fraction of the time julianna has and he’s already exhausted. “let’s recharge together, hmmm? it’s nice and comfortable out here.” he rests his head on hers and closes his eyes.

“WHAT A POOR, unsatisfied lady.” clicking his tongue, cathal attempts to shake his head but accidentally makes somewhat of a mess of julianna’s hair. strands cling to his cheek as he lifts his face and surreptitiously attempts to fix it. “though a column isn’t what i would look for satisfaction, and in such a public place. she really must have been down in her cups. how tragic.”

AS SILENCE SETTLES in, cathal wonders if the man inside could have fainted or… died. human physiology is a mystery to him, but he assumes that, deprived of enough oxygen, the body might stop working? he contemplates carving a small hole in the side to check when the fellow pipes up once more, defiantly proud of his unaccomplishment. well, the man’s insistent, he’ll give him that much. “and yet here you are, trapped inside a children’s toy. what would you do if i weren’t here to--” he snickers. “--save you?”  

“And I fell in love instantly.”

“It’s probably nothing.“ 

“It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is." 

"If you see something, say nothing and drink to forget." 

"And you may find, as time passes, that you remember it less and less." 

"Look, I’ve probably said too much." 

"If you don’t hear from me again, it has truly been a pleasure." 

"We are not history yet." 

"You are safe now." 

"You can let go now." 

"We have nothing to speak about. There never was." 

"I have chosen to not be certain of anything at all." 

"There are many things I wish I could remember." 

"I do not live but I exist." 

"I don’t know if he listens to me sometimes." 

"We can do this together, you and I." 

"You don’t know what to say." 

"I know what I saw." 

"Regrets just bear us down." 

"You are all to me." 

"Think nothing of it; it’s forgotten." 

"There—now you know. Has that filled an emptiness for you? Are you any happier now?" 

"I have something of urgent importance to tell you." 

"And for now, existence is enough." 

"No, not you! Not you!" 

"Please, stay safe inside." 

"I just don’t believe violence is ever the answer—it is a question. The real answer is far more terrifying." 

"We can get along." 

"I’m coming in there." 

"There must be something beyond this something." 

"I will try not to be long." 

"I don’t know where I am." 

"I told you I would be back." 

"I let that woeful beast live." 

"We have each other." 

"As with life, and as with all things, it will pass." 

"Am I in Hell?”

“I am certain that there must be more to us than just us." 

"Let’s not dwell on our corpse strewn past; let’s celebrate our corpse strewn future." 

"I probably won’t miss you." 

"Well, let’s just find out together, shall we?" 

"And it’s just no good anymore. We can’t carry on like this." 

"Nothing is real, I don’t think. Whatever; who cares?" 

"When I die, I want to have earned it." 

"The present tense of regret is indecision." 

"The future tense of fear is either comedy or tragedy." 

"I can disappear if I want to." 

"And what if the void is not as void as we thought?" 

"Time is weird; so is space. I hope ours match again someday." 

"We should all be so lucky to set our own futures." 

"I fear for what we know." 

"I fear for what we don’t know." 

"We have nothing to fear and never did." 

"It is likely I will learn nothing from this." 

"After everything that happened, I just wanted to see you." 

"It is too late for us." 

"But maybe you shouldn’t sleep in your home anymore. Just in case." 

"Your sadness will know no bounds." 

"Nothing will be the same." 

"Nothing has ever been the same." 

"When something is this weird, one shouldn’t assume to understand anything specific about it at all." 

"Ignorance may not actually be bliss, but it certainly is less work." 

"No one has ever known anything—not really." 

"I don’t know much about anything at all, honestly." 

"Everything is some level of probably, nothing is a promise." 

"You don’t know, and so it might very well." 

"Nothing ever really happens to me." 

"Thanks, that means lot. Not to me, but your words hold a lot of meaning intrinsically." 

"So it’s best just to stay away." 

"It cannot give you what you need." 

"Oh, you don’t even want to know." 

"But it wasn’t what I thought it would be." 

"I’ll be back as soon as I can." 

"You have no idea how often it is just you and me." 

"There always seems to be something upsetting you." 

"It’s not that there’s nothing coming to get you; there’s everything coming to get you. But relax anyway." 

"Don’t worry. All is as it was meant to be." 

"It was meant to be lonely and terrifying and unfair and fleeting, don’t worry." 

"This is because I am also slightly malicious. Sorry about that." 

"Thinking about it now, nothing seems good, let alone perfect." 

"And those imperfections in our reality are the seams and the cracks into which our outsized love can seep and pool." 

"And sometimes we’re annoyed. And disappointed. And that, too, is a part of how love works." 

THIS IS MORE his scene than the fancy circus in the ballroom. 

WITH TWINKLING EYES, cathal stops in front of the main attraction: some sort of game? a game! better than playing the fool elsewhere, he’ll play the fool here. arms crossed over his chest, he leans over the table and grins. “and what illicit, morally repugnant pastime are we engaging in here?” whatever it is, cathal wants part of it, though he feels a sense of unease at the mention of a wager. somehow, it seems as if it would be easy to lose everything in such a place. 

“I TAKE GREAT offense at your slander. this outfit is a fashion masterpiece!” admittedly, cathal knows it’s terrible; that is the intent, but he’s growing fond of the ruffles. they bounce delightfully with each step. “but i’ll acquiesce. if i lose, i shall discard the shirt right here. but if you lose, dear ringleader, what shall you do?” tapping his finger against his chin, the corners of his mouth lift as an amusing vision hits him. “i think i would rather like to see you ask one of those finely dressed court ladies for a dance… with no pants on.” 

CATHAL TAKES OR refuses jobs on a whim, and when one about a broken sewing machine comes it while he’s doing something unrelated in the vale of tears, he almost ignores it until he remembers the red queen’s ball is coming up soon. this would be the worst time for a machine of that nature to break down, especially for a tailor. taking pity on the unfortunate soul, he decides to take a look and see what he can do. 

THE HOUSE OF his employer is grand, for someone not related to royalty, or at least cathal assumes so. he feels woefully out of place in his dirty, patched clothes and unkempt hair. cathal has been to the palace of both the red and white queens before, but he’s always had ample time to prepare for those visits. this is out of the blue and he’s unsettled a tad bit, though he buries it all under a sunny smile and knocks on the door. 

(...) “I was wondering when you were going to show up until I thought you wouldn’t at all, Mr. Handsome Savior.” 

AND YET HERE he is, a singular doll in a den of lions (metaphorical for the most part, though he hasn’t been checking the guests for sharp teeth). cathal is not exactly inconspicuous either, sporting a ruffled pink shirt bad enough to be labelled a fashion nightmare--all because he promised roslyn frills. in a strange twist of fate, he’s not the worst dressed person at the ball either. nobles are a fascinatingly odd lot. 

AS LONG AS he’s here, he fully intends to enjoy himself as much as possible. the disappointing lack of rumoured orgies aside, cathal flits across the room, careful to stick to the edges as much as possible. he bows, flirts, gossips, and winds himself into the confidence of a group of court ladies happy to spill the most lurid of scandals in exchange for a full glass of wine. though he soaks it all up like a sponge, cathal eventually excuses himself out to the balcony for a moment of peace, intending to gather his thoughts before braving the crowd inside once more. 

HE DOES NOT notice the familiar figure until she addresses him, too focused on admiring the beauty of the night sky. starting in surprise, cathal turns around to see who else but julianna, looking more resplendent than usual. a bright grin overtakes his features at the sight and cathal approaches her, stopping just in front of the marble bench. he bows, reaching for a hand and presses it to his lips. “julianna! how unexpectedly expected to see you here! you look marvelous; a beauty enough to rival the moon itself.”

IT IS THEN he looks down at his own ensemble and cringes. “i have no explanation for my own formal wear. no, i do. see, a friend mentioned frills and i may have taken it too far--” cathal cuts himself off for once and shakes his head. “i digress. what are you doing out here instead of inside on some handsome fellow’s arm? were the courtiers becoming too much for you to handle as well?” still holding her hand, cathal sit down on the bench beside her. “i’ll tell you one thing: i know far too much about lord kingsley's sexual preferences for a lifetime.”

THE NEXT QUESTION is unexpected and not altogether welcome. confusion mingles with irritation as cathal attempts to wrap his head around the prince’s simple curiosity. is he offended? a little. zac means no offense, he’s sure, but how is cathal supposed to tell him that his finds this question impossible to answer? more to the point, he doesn’t want to answer it. “unfortunately, if i told you, i would have to kill you,” cathal says flatly. his stone-faced expression cracks after a minute to show he’s merely joking. 

THE LEAST HE can do is make an attempt to satisfy zac’s inquisitiveness. what is it like to be none? sighing, cathal pulls up a stool and gestures for zac to sit before finding a seat for himself. “you’ll have to forgive me; i need to organize my thoughts.” he chuckles humorlessly and rests his elbows on a table, trying to find the best way to explain this. “what is like to be what you are: a human? can you put it into words, prince?” without waiting for an answer, he continues. “i… i wouldn’t be able to tell you the difference. i simply am. i exist as i do, and i have never known anything else. if i have, i don’t remember it.”