NIGHT / 晚上

her hand did not move to her blade, instead she shifted slightly to the left to allow them to stare at the same abyss she had been. to contemplate a world of ancients long forced into memory…

the tides do not follow the expected ebb and flow, as news of all sorts reaches weary ears upon the chaes' arrival. first the death from braxigar, followed by the list of potential crownwearers, some haneul expected, some not at all. the days that follow are a cloud of whispers and rumors, conversations behind closed doors, attempts at last-minute alliances to secure the coveted throne. while they are not the sort of person to change their mind with a single conversation, they know the importance of being up to date with the directions of the wind. so, much to their dismay, they are forced by themself to go out and 'mingle' — get up to date with the events of different hollows and houses. to learn more about who is siding with whom, and talk with the very few friends they have. it's more draining than running through their entire library in one evening, yet they get through it with a steely countenance as they are known to do. it's only a few more days later, and in which they have a break, that they seek solace in the outskirts of elaris keep. they do not expect to find a familiar face there, and move quietly once they realize they have been noticed. their eyes do not meet hers but look at the darkness that stretches on. "lady kaelvorn." the greeting is quiet, as is the world around them. calm despite the threat of a chaos that burns inside the castle walls. "admiring heliophra? or perhaps, missing home?"

being caught here, with a bottle in hand, lying across the cold stone, feels too similar to being caught at home years ago, doing something he shouldn't have been doing. if it were the case, it would bounce off him as soon as it hit his skin — yet this is someone else, and it feels rude to have found solace here amidst all the preparations the altinsoys must have gone through. the embarassment is easy to see on his face as lian sits up straighter now, a hand going to the back of his neck, legs crossed underneath him. "lady altinsoy." the greeting is brief, and he tries not to avert his eyes. "my apologies. this is not a reflection of your hospitality, more of my..." a pause as he tries to find the right words, something that's not too self depricating that it would disturb her, yet still the truth. "aversion to crowds." it's both a truth and a lie, and he wonders if she will question it further. "plus, the view here is phonemonal. heliophra is stunning." the liege gestures towards the open field in front of them, the nature that is so unlike braxigar's. "thank you for hosting us."

finding information amidst this chaos is difficult, if not completely impossible. there are too many whispers going around to believe any of them, not if it's not a friend's word. as the voting for the crownwearer is on the near horizon, everyone tries to get another twist of the story, one of up another or pull someone else down. it's as nerve-wracking as it is confusing, to try to find a needle in the haystack for more information about what happened to them. much to orion's chagrin, lathander was at least right about one thing: everyone seems to be over the events of the fire. when people do not seem to be the answer for more intel, let alone at this particular hour, and when sleep does not take them; they find the answer in heading to the library. they cannot be sure if they'll find much value there, but if they could get their hands on some records, or at least more knowledge about heliophra, it couldn't hurt. they know less than they are comfortable with, especially on foreign soil. it doesn't take them too long to find the library, and much less time to get lost in the amount of books and the way they are organized. too wrapped up in their head as they believe they have found some kind of records — the sound of footsteps reach their ears too late, accompanied by a whisper. it startles them, and it's difficult to fight the urge to roll their eyes. "liege orion tethalune- and you are?" the words are proper nonetheless, as their heart beats fast in the wake of the surprise. "and how do you know i do not have an invite?"

biting  into  the  green  apple  ,  the  tethalune  heir  noticed  his  youngest  sibling  sneak  away  into  their  chambers  .  he  wondered  why  orion  always  seemed  so  up  tight  ,  as  if  they  would  be  anywhere  else  in  the  world  but  where  everything  happened  .  emerald  hues  fell  upon  them  as  he  stood  in  the  door  way  ,  eyeing  his  younger  sibling  who  seemed  annoyed  at  the  slightest  of  things  .  "  i  wouldn't  say  they  were  upon  any  list  ?  horror  befalls  us  all  .  "  he  states  in  a  matter  of  factly  tone  ,  ignoring  the  worry  which  seemed  like  ivy  vines  clinging  to  them  .  "  to  be  quite  frank  -  "  he  says  with  a  chuckle  escaping  him  as  he  walks  closer  to  where  orion  is  laying  upon  the  bed  .  "  i'd  rather  we  are  yesterdays  news  than  todays  gossip  ,  i  prefer  finding  the  gossip  than  being  it  .  "  he  muses  with  a  wicked  grin  upon  his  lips  .  perhaps  he  was  a  masochist  ,  perhaps  he  was  too  greedy  and  selfish  to  realize  that  there  was  a  world  outside  his  periphery  .  "  we  have  a  home  ,  orion  ⸻  somewhere  to  go  back  to  ,  isn't  that  enough  ?  loosen  a  little  up  .  "

the matter of fact tone does not help the mood of the youngest, as they fight the urge to roll their eyes and only half succeed. "what do you mean? you think it's completely random and without a plan?" their voice rises a pitch, and if they were a better man, they'd be able to stop the next words coming from their mouth. "yeah, i guess you would think that." it's under their breath as they dig deeper into the couch, arms crossed in front of their chest, one hand going to pinch the bridge of their nose. lathander's light spirits have the opposite effect on them, as they try to keep calm, and fail miserably. "gossip?" even if it might be all that to some houses who remain unaffected, it feels utterly wrong to chalk it off as that. "that's all this is to you? this death and terror that does not end?" what affects them more than anything else is the brushing off of the loss of their home — they get up in the next blink of an eye, walking up to their brother, eyes fiery. "you're kidding me — your standard for home is 'having somewhere to go to'? that's enough for you?" cerulean eyes look deep into his, seeking to find deception there, afraid to find the truth. "let's just throw a bed in the woods and be done then. less work- should be enough?"

the inn is a much more familiar and comforting place for the young nuwa, much more so than the elaris keep, where everyone seems to be on edge and weighing one another. it isn't as if lian doesn't know why — the times are terrible, to say the least, and with everything changing at the blink of an eye, apprehension spreads like a disease. there is a part of him, however, that is happy to be away from home, anywhere else but home, without the vigilant and overbearing gaze of his parents, without the pressure of who he needs to be. it is only the news of the dead that hinders him from having more light of a heart, mixing in with some guilt that it is lighter than it has been for a while. when the loud voice booms through the crowd, followed by cheers, lian tries to let the good spirits wash over him as well. he can afford to let go a bit — right? at the very least, he knows he needs to, as there might not be many other opportunities to come for a while. he raises his glass with the rest of the clientele, only faltering a little at the speech. it's daunting, a contradiction to the cheer that has accompanied it. with a quick shrug, they take a long sip of their drink, though unable to look away from the lord. "thanks for the drink." he lets out, and raises his glass in a cheer, before taking another long sip. "i don't know if celebrating is the right word —" there is little to be celebrated, his guilt reminds him, and he tries to drown it again with another drink. "trying to get away, i suppose?" in many ways, more than what he would be able to speak into words. "inns are always a good place to let go of things, although sometimes momentarily." the crowd around them is proof of that, able to have joy when there is so much sorrow near them. "what about yourself? what are you celebrating?"

Guy Remmers as Theo, Duke of Tintagel The Buccaneers (2023–)│2.04 "Ice Cream"

"I know." Sheng reassures, his voice succinct, but almost gentle where his face as if smooths out the crease on his brow like wrinkles in an old garment, the cold indifference of usual settling—with just a hint of warmth lingering underneath. He would not be here, if it were not for him. It's not a lack of belief in Lian's abilities that had him shielding him from combat—it was love, and fear, both battling in the back of his head constantly and without end. But perhaps he had been unfair to him in doing so. He raises his arm, his sword, long sleeves rustling against the breeze as he positions his feet like a challenge and transforms before his very eyes into this graceful, deadly thing; the steadiness of his grip unyielding, the confidence of his stance a result of hours of relentless training. The blade extends ahead like an extension of his arm as he invites him to step closer, granting him the mercy of the first blow; he would do well to strike hard and not to waste it, for luck did not favor those who went up against him. The light streams from above, the moon like a watchful eye, perched high atop the gloomy skies in anticipation, overseeing the violent waltz of the brothers, its pale light catching on the polished steel of his blade and bouncing back into the crimson of his eyes.

chest heaving with a breath not yet taken, lian prepares himself for a debate before even getting close to getting sheng to agree. he expects him to refuse fighting with him, either due to finding the younger weak ( with or without the injury ), or simply not deeming him worth his time. the acceptance comes as too much of a surprise, akin to a rug being swept from underneath his feet, or missing a step while going down the stairs. it makes him falter in his stance, steely mask dropping for a few seconds. the confusion is easy to see as he tilts his head, waiting for the other shoe to drop- which does not come. sheng has agreed to spar with him; after what feels like a lifetime, and for what? will he actually do it? will he finally let that anger go, rather than giving him the cold shoulder? is lian finally worth his time, his attention? after years spent being ignored, have both their injuries broken the balance between them? the younger nuwa does not know what to expect, yet knows not to be hopeful, having been burnt too many times to accept this as an olive branch. and although the older had let himself be cared for back in vallarion, lian is sure it was out of necessity, nothing to do with lian himself. his mouth opens before words fall out, a pause, before they are pursed. opens again. "good." and what else he could say? they are at a stalemate, at the beginning of something about to break. standing upon a lake frosted over, the cracks beginning to spread underneath their feet. lian is much too ready to take the plunge; too strangled by the void, that rather than being stuck here, he is ready to risk the misery, the hell that would follow. "let's go then." a second more passes as he waits, and when it's clear that he is granted the honor of the first move, he is quick on his feet to jump forward, blade swinging in an arch that he knows will be parried. the force of their swords meeting almost happens in a flash of light, the noise sharp enough to make his ears ring. while lian is normally much more tame, agreeable- there is a spark inside him, a mix of anger and hurt, fear and desperation, manifesting in something self-destructive. a desire for some answers, or anything he can grasp, to know something is changed, to convince himself he isn't stuck here again. "what made you change your mind?" the words are spoken louder, desiring to be heard against another clash of their swords, lian rusty on his footwork as he dodges the sword swiping at him, quickly backing up, before striking again. "is it father who put you to this?" that's the only other reason he can imagine sheng would agree to this. as they continue, his strike is parried again, but not met with the vehemence that lian knows sheng posessess. he is holding back, yet again. it infuriates lian, unlike ever before. something between a growl and a scream leaves his mouth, as he pushes forward again, sword about to strike. "fight me like the nuwa you are!"