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buck-nialled · 4 years

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Empty Pages - R. Mendes (2)

NOTE: this story is gonna start out a bit slow but bear with me i just want the plot to carry and flow ok? alright cool. ALSO REPLY OR MESSAGE ME TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY :)

PROLOGUE // PART ONE

Her eyes, while trying to keep focused on the syllabus outlining the first semester, hopelessly wandered to the wrinkled leather adorning his torso. The fluorescent lighting made his devious gaze going as he stared ahead at the whiteboard the teacher had already been occupying with a colorful marker.

Lily would say she is more befuddled than anything by this new persona Raul Mendes was headstrong in appearing as. His curls were applied with a sheen of gel so thick; they would make an unmistakable crunch if her hands were to tangle themselves in the mop. She ponders if, after today, he would enter his home and fling it off like she did her bra and trade it for one of the long-sleeved cotton shirts she recalls him wearing the years prior. Enamored by Raul, well, that is something she had always felt.

According to the stack of diaries hiding in the corner of her bookcase, the romantic feelings traced back to first-grade art class. Her failed attempt at a flower earned her one compliment amidst an ocean of giggles and taunts, but the boy’s high voice and the sincere smile never seemed to slip from her memory. In her first diary, toward the beginning pages, you could still find her loosely scribbled recount of the day and a worn, folded sheet presenting the artwork Raul Mendes claimed to ‘like’.

Staring at his profile in the present moment, he did not seem like the type of person who liked anything except chaos and the color black. After knowing him almost her whole life, the sight was one to behold, to say the least. It makes the girl wonder if she had morphed just as much once jettisoning the metal straining her teeth for two years and cutting her hair shorter. But she took notice of the desk she occupied seconds upon entering the classroom, and the fact that there were nowhere near as many eyes on her, compared to the looks Raul had captured. It felt like a repeat of fourth grade where he landed a clean fist into the side of Connor’s face, but the Raul seated beside her now seems as though he would not be sorry for doing it. Has anything really changed, she questioned internally?

The professor’s voice enters her ears as she begins discussing the assigned reading required over the summer. “One of the more modern elements Orwell describes in this story, is what?” The class falls silent. “Anybody?” She meets Lily’s eyes, and the girl simply looks down to fiddle with the pencil in her hold.

Peter’s hand—half-hidden by a knitted, gray sweater—shoots upward. “Government.”

“You’re on the right track…it’s something the government does…”

“Like, laws and stuff?” Isabella averts her attention from her fingernails to quirk a brow. Lily holds back a roll of her eyes and looks back to Raul, whose cheek was resting against his large palm.

“Not quite,” The teacher murmurs, sparing the girl a glance of desperation. She knew Lily read the book and was probably the only person in class who spared the time to do so. “Lily, help me out here,”

The girl heaves a sigh. “Propaganda.” Unlike the rest of her classmates, her answer came out like that of a statement. A few pupils turned her direction, but she did not find herself shifting in her seat until Raul’s joined in.

“Yes, bingo! Whether or not we realize it, propaganda is everywhere. They can be small hints, subliminally telling you to buy something, like the advertisements on television. Other times, they can be plain and obvious as to what they are telling you, such as voting campaigns.”

“Your first assignment this quarter will be to make your propaganda. It can be about anything! Just make it school-appropriate, original, and feel free to use the book or internet examples as inspiration. I also want a written list about all of the details and reasons your art features what it does.” Lily was no Picasso, but the sound of drawing sounded much more appealing than a five-page essay. Her ears catch Raul’s scowl at the mention of ‘art’, cueing her eyes to peek up and stare at his profile. Not only was his smirk gone, but the sparkle his golden-brown irises flaunted so gracefully had too, dissipated. Raul catches her wondering stare, burning into his jaw and turns sharply to face her.

“What?” He hisses beneath the teacher’s direction. Lily freezes but shows no other visible reaction before turning her head back forward in the following seconds.

“This is due in three days, so I expect them to be good. Don’t disappoint.” The teacher concludes, before chatting about the rest of the semester’s agenda.

-----------------

“Hey! How was school?” Lily had barely stepped through the door before being bombarded with the same question she had been answering for the past eleven years.

“Just another day in paradise.” She never spared her mother the details, because frankly, they were unexciting and a waste of words. The only days she found worthy of describing to her mother about dated back to the art class in first grade and the occasional field trip.

“Well, I have something to make it better!” Her mother sings. Lily drops her backpack against the floor by the front door and waltzes over to the couch where her mother stood folding laundry. She kicks off her shoes and allows her socked feet to bury in the plush carpeting.

“What?” Lily asks warily, quirking a brow. Her mother grabbed her one of her fair-skinned arms, dotted here and there with freckles, and tugs her to the master bedroom her mother was occupying.

“Sit, sit, sit!” Her mother orders through eager giggles. Lily obeys and sits on the edge of the made bed, staring at her mother’s back while she digs through her closet.

“I’ve been waiting to give this to you for years now. I almost caved and showed you last year, but I wanted to keep the tradition going.” She sighs in accomplishment once landing her hand on the ruffled fabric, and pivots to turn towards Lily. “Have I ever told you the story of how your father and I met?”

Lily shakes her head, now preparing for her mother’s voice to begin wavering and matching green eyes to gloss over. That was how any conversation with her father mentioned begins now.

“It was at my junior homecoming. He was new to the school, but a total hottie,” The woman mutters the second sentence as though it was a secret and wiggles her eyebrows.

“Gross mom,” Lily groans. Her mother only giggles.

“Anyways, every girl in my grade was after him. I mean, they were vicious and clawing at each other just to talk to the guy. Of course, I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to talk to the guy, but as fate would have it…we were seated next to each other in typing class.” Her mother’s eyes flicked up like the memory was projected above Lily’s head.

“They had a class for typing?” Lily wondered aloud, appalled by the information.

“Well, yeah! You see the internet was new then, and there weren’t many…that’s, not the point!” Lily’s mother waves her hands about, ring glinting from the ceiling fan’s light. “I was the first to finish the lesson; guess I had a real knack for it or whatever and when I looked over, your father was…well, he was hopeless.” At this, Lily joined in her mother’s laughter.

“He kept pecking at each key one by one. Minutes would drag on and he would only have one word written down, I swear. Finally, the teacher walked away, and I offered him my help. That day, we both passed the lesson with A’s.” The woman’s proud smile gleamed as she told the tale.

“Mom! You cheated?” Lily’s mouth dropped as she slapped the mattress beside her.

“I prefer the term ‘aided’.” Her mother comments. “But after that day, we grew…closer. A whole lot closer actually, he was my best friend.” Lily heard her mother’s voice crack and spots a small tear sliding down her cheek. “When homecoming came that year, neither of us had a date and decided to just go with one another as friends. But…that night…something about the slow dance we shared or the twenty-four-hour diner we went to before going…we spilled our guts to each other. He and I admitted to liking each other. A lot. And we were inseparable since that day.” She finishes with a sniffle and reveals the piece of cloth she had been hiding, to Lily.

“This was the dress I wore to my junior homecoming. My mother gave this to me the night of mine and shared a similar story to how she met grandpa. The night of their dance, grandpa told her he wanted to marry her. I want to keep the tradition going, so I’m passing this…” Her mother steps forward, and lays the dress across Lily’s lap, “onto you.”

Lily was speechless the moments following, mouth wavering up and down. “O-oh, mom! I-I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to say anything! I know you’re going to look lovely in this!”

“The school year just started, though. I mean…what if…” She meets her mom’s stare, slowly saddening by her daughter’s apprehensive voice. It made her insides curl up and a guilty lump grows prominent in her throat. Lily never attended a single school dance in her life. She found the dress hideous and felt nauseated by the idea of almost every boy in her grade becoming involved with her. But the rejected, teary-eyed form of her mother was something she found impossible to bear.

“What if you come with me to get my hair and nails done that morning?” Lily offers. Her mother’s eyes brighten instantly, and she pulls the younger girl in for a tight hug, voice joyous.

“I’d love to! This is going to be great!”

“So great,” Lily mumbles through a forced grin, face becoming smothered by her mother’s shoulder.

THE NEXT DAY

"Great, just great. What am I gonna tell her?" Lily folds her arms across her chest, throwing her head back as she leans her back against the plastic desk chair.

"The truth?" Mrs. Hasel suggests in a questioning manner as she munches on her salad. "There's nothing else you can tell her."

"I could pretend to be sick. I could lie." Lily refutes, attempting to make her tone more persuasive than doubtful as she begins to angrily peel the orange sat on the large, wooden desk before her. Mrs. Hasel simply lifts her brows and scoffs.

"Okay, I know my job is to motivate you kids at what you do. But there's a reason you've been taking art class these past three years, not theatre." She replies with the shake of her head. Lily sighs, shaking her own head at the truth bomb her teacher just planted on her lap.

Neither woman notices the tall frame passing the classroom, or the halt in his steps when he catches Lily's voice on his journey back from the restroom. Despite knowing her for his entire academic career, hearing her voice, and at a reasonable volume, was a rarity. His eyes shift along with his feet, to lean towards the doorframe and catch sight of her back, covered by the waterfall that was her dark, black locks. Raul situates himself to lean against the wall, beside the open classroom door and continue listening.

"You're right. I'm hopeless. Maybe I should just drop out."

Mrs. Hasel hums afterward in refusal, swallowing down the rest of her salad. "You are one of my most gifted students! I won't allow you to just quit."

"I don't think paying attention in class and doing my work on time makes me gifted." The girl snorts, picking away at the orange slices.

"It does when the rest of your class sits and twiddles their thumbs. Come on! Everybody at this school sees your knack for art, half of what I hang in the halls are done by you. Your artwork had parents coming up to me at orientation." The teacher laughs in disbelief. Raul's head turns to observe the works hung on the walls outside of the classroom, and takes note that half of the nametags were all the same. When did her brushstrokes become so lush and defined he wonders? How did he miss this progression of hers through the years? Did this girl even like art, to begin with?

"Maybe my next piece should be about breaking tradition," Lily jokes, "that'll send mom a message, huh?" She looks down at her fingernails.

"Well, you have that propaganda project, don't you?" The girl's head flicks up immediately, as does Raul's.

"Yeah, we do. I haven't found any good ideas for one yet, but...that sounds great." Back and forth, Lily and Mrs. Hasel toss ideas to one another for the remainder of lunch. Raul nods to himself the entire time, loving the design and color scheme and idea in general. He too now found a brilliant idea.

TAGLIST; @fanficshawn @lonelyreputation

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keysketches · 6 years

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[[ for @nohrdragonprince // @fe-holiday-exchange ]]

[[Can also be read over at AO3!

Fic under the cut~! Merry Christmas/happy holidays, nohrdragonprince!]]

The two sat in companionable silence, Leo lounging in a plush chaise longue and Kliff sat with his back up against it. Both held in his own lap a thick tome, and for some time the only sound they produced was that of pages being delicately turned.

They had for the purpose of today's visit opted for Leo's study. The better part of the area surrounding them lay in impeccable order, pristine and everything in its place... everything except for the mess atop the table right next to them, which could only be described as organized chaos. They, of course, would know where everything was and how to find what they were after.

Finally, after what to some might have felt an eternity, Kliff reached for a piece of paper - one of many they had ready to use as bookmarks - and, albeit briefly, breached the silence:

"Interesting passage here about a root hoshidan and nohrian magics potentially share."

Leo had looked over, attentive, and nodded. The two shared a quiet smile and returned to their research. It was a ritual they'd come to count on. At least once a month, Kliff would return to the nohrian capital and they would exchange their findings. On the rare occasion or two, they'd meet elsewhere. Sometimes they'd have tea. Other times they'd wander the courtyard and share in discourse. Infrequently they would even spar, testing what they had learned in a practical setting. Mostly, though, mostly they sat, and they read and shared their findings.

Lately though, a crinkle in his fine brow as he looked over the younger mage, Leo couldn't help but wonder if there was something he wasn't sharing.

How It Came About.

After the war, Kliff bid farewell to Alm and the rest of his friends. Then, he vanished.

He had gotten a taste of the adventure he'd long yearned for, but it was only that: a taste. He wanted, needed more. As nice as it might have been to stay in the newly formed kingdom of Valentia and lend a hand, something in his gut told him he would not find what he was looking for on his home continent.

And so he'd set out, taking with him only what he could fit within the confines of a small backpack.

* * * * *

The aftermath of the war left Leo with even more of an image to live up to. There was much to be done in terms of helping Xander, now king, with the rebuilding of Nohr in its new image. Undoing the damage done would not happen overnight. Many of the citizens were frustrated with the upheavals their way of life was seeing, and he could not rightly blame them.

They would have to adjust nonetheless.

As he walked the streets of the capital, he stood tall, proud, sharp eyes assessing the morale of the people on this new day. His hand lingered ever near Brynhildr, the tome warm and alive and comforting to the touch, and it lent him just that extra bit of authority should he require it. Already he was deciding what he might put in today's report to his eldest brother. Food was not as plentiful as it ought to be. There were still scrums in the streets aplenty, and general attitude did not appear to have shifted overmuch.

Then, he felt it. A tap on his shoulder. With a surprised grunt, Leo whirled on his heels to face whoever it was that had the audacity to-

oh. A boy- no, a young man, perhaps. Running a quick visual appraisal, Leo figured he and the stranger might be similar in age. Yet there was something about the pale-haired youth that gave the impression of knowledge beyond his years and the feel of a distant, faraway place... and this, not in the same sense that a visiting Hoshidan (rare though they still were) might come across as foreign, or even anyone from Cyrkensia, or... or...

Lips drawn taut in the midst of his speculation, Leo's lithe brows lifted in question. "Can I help you?"

The stranger, with his inscrutable, distinct crimson gaze, seemed to start at the query. He glanced away, rubbing idly at the nape of his neck. "I was just, hm, wondering if you were aware your collar was inside out."

The effect was immediate. Leo's cheeks flushed for an instant the colour of the tomatoes he was so very fond of. "Beg pardon?" No, no, no... How? He thought he had long left that careless habit behind. He'd long had enough of his siblings' teasing him for it and had actively sought to do something about it. So much for that.

"Your collar," the white-haired youth repeated simply, his stare even and distant, as though this were really no big deal.

And... It wasn't, Leo realized, annoying though it was. To his credit, a testament to his character, he bounced back remarkably fast. Tugging on the collar, he huffed, flipped it deftly around, and stood tall. "You have my gratitude." He inclined his head, and took that moment to further discretely study the newcomer, eyes surreptitiously narrowed in consideration.

No way the guy was from around here. From his dress to his manner... As the boy shrugged, nodded, and then turned to leave, Leo called after him. His instincts were after him not to leave the encounter at that, and who was he to ignore them?

"Wait!"

The boy turned and pinned that piercing, always searching stare of his on Leo. Undeterred, the prince pressed on. "What is your name?"

The boy tugged idly at his own collar, a furrow developing in his brow. Clearly, Leo remarked privately, he was not the only one who'd been studying the other. "Kliff," he said simply, affecting a second indifferent shrug before making to turn away anew. Not the sociable type, huh? Leo knew someone a little like that.

"Well met, Kliff." Leo had jogged a few steps to catch up and now walked abreast of the pale youth. If he really was a foreigner, then his opinion of the land might prove invaluable insofar as gauging how Nohr was progressing. He flashed the boy a ghost of a smile, just enough to show he meant no harm, but also enough to hint that he was far from done with Kliff's time. Kliff, for his part, appeared coolly resigned. His detachment was hardly enough to deter the prince. "From whence do you hail?"

"Far away."

Leo quirked now only a single brow. Cryptic. "Far away?" he echoed in challenge, bristling slightly despite himself as he easily matched the other's pace.

Kliff met him with a wry smile. "Who is a man to pry without even so much as giving a name of his own? I wonder."

Blinking back his surprise, Leo quietly grit his teeth before nodding in acknowledgement. "You've got me there. Forgive me. I'll admit I may have gotten ahead of myself."

The white-haired boy chuckled dryly, as though to say, 'may?'

"I am Leo, a prince of Nohr. My people are my primary concern, but foreign relations factor amongst my duties. I did not intend to pry for the mere sake of prying. You've no need to humour me, however I-"

"-Good."

Of all the nerve! Few and far between were those who who dared cut Leo off. The impertinence! The gall! The-

"...Because," Kliff continued, his smirk lacking malevolence but betraying his amusement all the same, "it's a bit of a long story, and I will admit I had no intent on sharing it. But..." The white-haired boy's stomach rumbled. He frowned in thought. "...I suppose I could be swayed." Leo perked up. He had a feeling he knew where this was headed. "If you want more,” Kliff continued, “the least you could do is treat me to lunch."

Bingo.

* * * * *

Kliff stirred his nearly empty cup of tea absently, his gaze lingering past the window to his right. It was a song and dance he'd not performed overmuch despite the extent of his travels and the number of people he'd met along the way. Try though he might, opening up remained difficult. None of the individuals he'd met could ever replace his Ram Village gang and, logically speaking, that was fine. He wasn't out to replace them. That'd be impossible. Still, he had to admit: a small part of him missed home. Or, more specifically, missed the people there.

Leo had skillfully coaxed from him not only where he came from but also the history of the events prior to and surrounding his departure. It helped that something about the guy felt oddly familiar. The tome at his waist certainly did him favours - though mages back home did not require the use of them, Kliff had long ago learned that this was not the case for most outside of Valentia. A fellow mage... And then there was his demeanour, too. Perhaps a bit easily frazzled concerning certain things but oh so quick to recoup his composure, and Kliff was already more than willing to bet he'd stand impervious when it really counted.

Of course, maybe he was completely wrong about that. Only time would tell, and he wasn't likely to stick around, so, it didn't matter, not really, and-

"You all right?" Leo questioned, taking a ginger sip of his own drink.

"Hm? Yeah. Just fine." Right. The blonde had posed a question, and he was supposed to be thinking about it. Whoops. "I decided fairly young that I wanted to go into magic. Just... something about it. I can't explain." Bless Sir Mycen, he'd excelled where it came to teaching them about physical combat and even a little where tactics against magic were concerned, but where the use of the art itself came into play... Kliff had had to rely on the few tomes of information he could scrounge up and on experimentation. Painful experimentation, more often than not, at that. "But they couldn't keep me away from the books if they tried."

As he spoke, he could see the telltale glint of interest in Leo's eyes. A fellow mage, indeed. How oh so utterly exciting. Kliff frowned, cupping his tea and pointedly staring into it. "And what brought you to magic, then?" He didn't look up, not yet.

The prince did not even have to pause to consider his words. "Much the same! A certain je-ne-sais-quoi attracted me to it from a young age. The feeling of raw power flowing through your veins, at your command... If anything, it was not so much that I chose the path of magic, but more so that it chose me."

Kliff nodded in understanding. He could relate. Looking up at last, he found himself suppressing a sigh. He was being studied again. And with the blonde's knit brow, with how he did not bother hiding his puzzlement, Kliff felt he knew what was coming next.

"You are a mage," ah, there it was, alongside subtle undertones of mixed suspicion and curiosity, "but wear no tome? What's your specialty?"

Kliff smirked but glanced away again, suddenly weary of this whole inquisition. His fingers drummed lightly, silently against the table. Insatiable curiosity to match his own had always been a bit daunting. And didn't this prince have better things to do?

Ah. Speaking of.

"Y-your highness!" A messenger had run up and, slightly out of breath, was stuck a moment leaning over his knees, panting for want of air. Then, at once, the man sprang up straight, offered a too-official salute, and got to business. "Your presence is requested three blocks south. A tussle has broken out over the new taxes and-"

"-say no more." Leo had already risen to his feet. "I apologize for cutting our meeting short," he offered Kliff. "Thank you for answering my questions. I would love to learn more about you and the land you hail from, but duty calls."

Kliff shrugged and grinned weakly. "Know how that goes." Alm had always followed that same call of duty, after all. He'd proven himself fit to lead long before he ever wore any crown.

"Perhaps fate shall guide us to another meeting. 'Til then." With a curt nod to punctuate his words, Leo exited, and was promptly followed by the messenger. He was asking something about a mount before Kliff could no longer hear them. Brows lifted skeptically, Kliff reached over for the rest of the tea in the nearby pot. Waste not, want not.

Maybe they would indeed meet again some day, he mused. He wouldn't be fussed if not but, in truth, the guy really hadn't been that bad.

* * * * *

Leo reached forward and patted his horse's neck. All around him were trees in bloom, pink petals drifting peacefully unto the earth. Straightening his posture, he pulled one of the petals from his hair and observed it a moment in the palm of his hand. It reminded him of that demure, pink-haired hoshidan noble. Had she not been named after these particular trees? Maybe, he mused idly, she would be present at the forthcoming meeting.

His thoughts were suddenly dashed by a distant yelp of pain. Glancing back at his retinue, he nodded and at once set forth, giving his mount's reins a quick snap and leaning forward to guide the way. He gave little heed to the fact that they were a couple hours past Hoshido's border already, and thus many things sat outside of his jurisdiction - someone needed help. And while the prince did not consider himself overly charitable, he also was not completely heartless, damn it.

Carefully but quickly arriving on the scene, Leo wasn't sure what to expect. Certainly, it wasn't this: a trio of brigands - with their attire and demeanour, they could hardly be called aught else - had surrounded a boy with too-familiar white hair. Except they had scattered even before Leo and his crew came fully into sight. One of them was clutching at his belly and looked to be in not so good a condition. The others looked on, wary but slowly creeping forward anew.

"Stay back! I'm warning you!"

Kliff's words went unwisely unheeded as the two remaining bandits advanced, slowly closing about him. With a scowl, he threw his hand over his head. A magical circle of a brilliant violet filled with runic symbols flared to life beneath him, its glare almost blinding to the unprepared. Then, out of thin air, a bunch of shard-like blades materialized and, upon the boy throwing his hand in his opponents' direction, they flew, vicious, blood-thirsty missiles seeking victory.

And victory they achieved, most handily. His enemies downed, Kliff stood tall and, casually dusting himself off, snorted haughtily. "Warned you."

It was as he was stooping down to pick up his backpack from one of the thugs that Leo and his retinue dear near, startled expressions worn by one and all. Leo was the quickest to master himself, however. "Impressive," the prince noted, giving the impromptu battleground a cursory sweep. That the young mage had dealt with three all to himself was no small feat, but more than that...

"You did that with no tome. How?"

Shouldering his pack, Kliff looked over his shoulder skeptically before beginning to stalk his way down the path. "I'm fine, why thank you so much for asking."

With a huff of annoyance and frustration both, Leo urged his horse forward until he was maintaining a pace abreast of his surly acquaintance. "My apologies, I saw what you did back there and got a bit one-track minded. The awe of new, foreign magic... You know how it is, I imagine?" The prince offered a rueful smile.

"I would prefer if you weren't so quick to assume but... you're not wrong," Kliff offered, wearing a teasing smirk of his own. "Leo, was it?"

"That's Prince Leo to you," one of the men bringing up the rear tossed, keen on decorum right up until the moment the prince in question shot him a withering glare. He could well speak for himself, please and thank you.

Looking back toward his company, Leo simply nodded. "I'm pleased you remember me. But you're still deflecting, Kliff. I must know how you came by magic sans tome - it will keep me up at night, I swear it! From one mage to another."

Kliff offered a sheepish laugh and shrugged. "It's just how we do it back in Valentia. I've no charms to give nor tricks to share. Our magic pulls not from a book or conduit but from the self." He shrugged, as if that was that - and by his estimation, it may as well have been.

With a dissatisfied huff, Leo leaned back in his saddle, brows furrowed and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he considered Kliff's words. Not requiring a tome could prove quite the advantage over one's enemies... Not that they were in a time of war any longer, but he could not help looking to the future. Humans were inevitably creatures of habit and, for whatever reason, that habit - if books of lore and history were of any indication - included battle and chaos.

Still, he had no cause to disbelieve his fellow mage. The scarlet-eyed youth had seemed fairly frank - if albeit a tad curt - the last they had met.

"That's a shame, but so be it." For now, at any rate. "May I ask what brings you to Hoshido?"

It was Kliff's turn to huff, albeit with good humour. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest. "You ask a lot of questions of me for a man sitting atop his horse. I should think, given the terrain, I would prefer to focus on my footing."

With a groan and a resigned mutter, Leo slipped from his horse's back and fell into step beside Kliff. Happy now? his expression seemed to ask. If he wanted to play that game, Leo had no problem challenging him. He was a prince, yes, and perhaps his station was considered above treading in the mud, but bollocks to that. He had to keep his eye on the prize, after all, and whatever individual wasn't willing to get a little dirty for that was unworthy of victory. "Are you always like this?"

Kliff met Leo's amused expression with a bemused chuckle of his own. "Always like what?"

Leo rolled his eyes and laughed. Kliff grinned back, all dimples in a rare moment of openness.

"So, what brings you to Hoshido?" Leo prompted then. Keeping an eye on where he was going all the while, he couldn't help his mind wandering, if briefly, back to the cherry blossom petals gently falling about them.

"I already told you,” Kliff said. “Traveling. Honing my magic. Expanding my knowledge. Et cetera." He shrugged.

"Ah! Standard wanderer fare, then." Leo snorted with sharp amusement when Kliff shot him a searching look for his comment. "How do you expect to do all that if you won't stay and chat awhile with fellow mages? Skirting opportunity is not wont to do you any favours."

Kliff looked skyward and squinted at the sun lightly filtering through the sakura branches. "Figured I'd sort that out as I went."

"Hm. You didn't strike me as the sort to go without a plan." Goading.

"Hm. I thought we talked about assumptions." Not so much goading as prodding.

"Fair enough. Say, would-"

"-Look, I'm really not much for small talk." And that was that.

The two fell thereafter into silence for the better part of the remainder of the walk until soon enough, a town came into view.

"Think we ought to split ways here," Kliff said. A statement more so than a suggestion.

Leo nodded. "Sure. But, I was thinking. I will be in Hoshido's capital over the next few days before returning home to Nohr. I should think it a shame if you did not drop by to say hello before departing. You say you're not much for small talk but then, neither am I - but I do not consider matters concerning my studies to be merely small talk. It might be interesting to share techniques and the like."

Upon seeing Kliff's impassive features, Leo merely shrugged and went to mount his horse. From atop the black beast, he loomed, looked down with an unperturbed gaze of his own. "Mull it over, at least. And think about your purpose for traveling in the first place."

Kliff shrugged again. "Yes mum. I'll get right on that."

But in truth, the prince had given him some food for thought.

* * * * *

And so, some weeks later, Kliff inevitably found himself on the nohrian prince's doorstep. Before fully parting ways, Leo had quickly penned and given him a letter, a token to be offered to the guards so that he might make his arrival known. The letter in question he now handed over, saw it couriered, and voila - someway, somehow, Kliff found himself escorted to Leo's study, and the two got to work.

For all Kliff's insistence that he wasn't much for small talk, the two eventually fell into easy banter. Two equally analytical - not to mention equally pragmatic - minds, they started at first just talking about magic and their own experience with it. Occasionally they interjected with some tidbit from their past, though both were to some extent guarded, reclusive, more business than not even amongst peers.

Months passed. Years. Kliff's visits continued. Their time together was always short but always productive. Leo trusted him enough at this point to vent if he needed to. About his role in Nohr's future. About his siblings, at times, and how frustrating they could prove no matter how he loved them. About Hoshido and how confusing some of their customs could be, and about this one girl who kept running through his mind. About this and that. The usual things friends shared.

They were indeed friends by now, Kliff had supposed one day, and at the realization he hid behind his quiet smile. It was a nice thought. Maybe this was what he'd been looking for all along. Certainly they had both learned a great deal through their practice and research.

And yet...

Both knew before anyone said anything that this was to be the last day. For now, at least.

Standing at the edge of the study, rucksack edged onto his shoulders, Kliff glanced back at the prince sitting in the chaise longue. It was obvious he was purposefully averting his gaze. Hm. Kliff glanced away. This was harder than he'd thought it was going to be.

Anxious, he cleared his throat.

Leo looked up, lithe brows lifted in careful consideration. He maintained his silence. Then, he shifted so that he was sitting up facing Kliff. His hands knitted together and sat austerely in his lap, he waited.

"I'm leaving," Kliff said, and felt annoyed with how he'd more or less mumbled it. Coward. But as he continued, he gained strength, found his resolve. "I'm not sure when I'll be back." He did intend to return, though. That ought to count for something, right? "I think I might go home for a bit."

Leo shrugged, nodded. "That's understandable." The other had been away from home for a long time now, after all. The prince could not fathom doing the same. There was always so much to take care of, here. "Do as you must." The ghost of a smile danced on his lips.

Neither of them were familiar with expressing overt sentimentality - and perhaps it was for the best that way. Kliff nodded and grinned. "Look for me if you ever happen to visit Valentia."

Leo nodded. Of course. That was a given. "I will."

#feholidayexchange #nohrdragonprince #leo #kliff #fire emblem #shadows of valentia #fates #fe15 #fe14 #fic #art #modern AU #fanart

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oceangl1tter · 5 years

Text

Postpone the future

future things i'm itching to write about:// - INFP and unrequited love: name a more iconic duo - past lovers as colors of my nailpolish - sappy fiction in which i write a happy ending - how many flowers can you stuff in your mouth before you throw up and die of indigestion - new year resolutions: TBD ————————————— First glass://

" HOUSE RULES to keep in mind 1. Do not go into any other rooms except for the restroom and my room 2. Bring enough food to be finished up or you take home whatever is left. 3. Do not open my closet/drawers lol its just my clothes tf? o.O 4. Clean up after yourself.... plS/ run to the damn restroom if u feel like yAK 5. PARTY ENDS 12AM sori pplz mama/papa gots to sleep " As a result of breaking the Golden Rule, the first of rules that had been posted in advance in our private Facebook event, we have been declaratively kicked out. R sneaks in a vomit-session before embarking on our expedition to the nearest boba place that would tolerate the ruckus from 4 hobbling pairs,2 observers, other stragglers lost on the way. It's supposedly a 40 minute walk to TenRen but time doesn't exist when you're trying to stop waddling kids from veering into oncoming traffic.The ranking of most drunk to least goes like this:

S E KC Q R MR DY A M JR, V R, JS, KG

Unfortunately, those burdened with not being shit-faced have been assigned the lovely task of cleaning up spilled drinks (a fizzy coca-cola liter erupts two times, same girl, same stumble, twice the sticky), being a branch for others to hang onto, and emotionally supporting the less-fortunate drunks.

Breaking down the Hot Mess:

S and E pour up as if the red cups in their hands are the equivalent of shot-glasses—this measurement is obviously incredibly off and perhaps the reason why one of them surpasses their breaking point (the other will throw up the remaining Malibu/ Smirnoff in a public trashcan in Atlantic Times Square) But for now, they're hyper, happy, laughing drunks, prancing along the host's bedroom and clinging along people in their path and tearing themselves off like pinballs.

S: Everything seems to be funny. Affectionate & eerily giggly. The next moment she's crying into the host's bed, facedown, emitting ugly sobs through convulses of her body. J is at her side telling her she can't cry into the host's bed and that she'll find someone else who will make her happy, but she has to get up first. She replies with," FUCK HIM!! I NEED HIM! HE MADE ME HAPPY!" This must've been inevitable. Don't drink in the same room with your ex. Another moment, she's pounding on the bathroom door because she has to pee. We broke the first rule. The host's mom comes out of her room later to see what the commotion is all about. She enters the room. Girl on bed, facedown, crying. Guy talking her down. R, taking a lazy nap on the side. Me, standing up with tissues stained coke-brown, red-faced, with my dumb nosering on looking into the eyes of someone that has known me since I was 10. She's on the phone and looks around the room. Concern or anger? I can't tell. I say in Cantonese that everything is fine. She is fine. I don't know how to say "she's not drunk! ! she's heartbroken" but the smell of the room betrays any statement. Kick-out ensues.

E: This happened last time and she always proclaims the day after: "I wasn't that drunk!" The girl has lost all principles of momentum and flops on people's shoulders, anchoring her arm around necks. She drinks the same amount as S + the leftover bottle of Malibu. Her layer of introversion is gone as she lunges around the room with cup in hand. On our way to boba in the dark, she strides in zig zags with confident, imprecise steps. R runs after her.

KC: Her original state is a high-pitched buzz of energy and it seems like alcohol multiplies that tenfold. She whacks S's left eye with her hand on accident. E whacks S's right eye with her foot on accident. She calls E fat and then apologizes. Later, she cries because she is sad. She loves everyone. She loves you. She loves her friends. She loves everyone, especially you. S, E, and KC are trio drunks. KC and I started out next to eachother drinking Calpico. I can't pinpoint when the trajectory split.

Q: She is a flirty, artificial drunk and at this point I'm over it. I saw the same thing unfold in Berkeley except with her boyfriend added into the equation. Not fun. Everyone else ignores her. She lays on the bed texting him.

R: R is a sleepy-drunk and he's knocked out first. I'm not sure how he was able to sleep through the loud singing of the national anthem and random indian music someone put on. I tell wide-eyed observers that this is signs of an alcoholic in the making. He pets S's hair as she cries into neatly folded blankets. On our way to boba I've been tasked with handling his inhibition. I am his crutch for the first half. The second half he is pushing me in an abandoned shopping cart and topples it over a bump in the sidewalk. My backpack, thankfully, protects my head from cracking open like an egg. Later on he grips my balled up hand and tries to unfold my fingers forcefully as if he could peel them out of the curled fist position. His hands feel like demands instead of sheepish drunk maneuvers. They don't feel sweaty but they're not warm either. We can't do this. I am shaking my head and curling my mid-sentences up as if I were scolding some dog. I don't let anyone hold my hand! Not even my mom! I say matter-of-factly. After wrestling it for a few moments he gives up.

New Years pt.1 / 11-12:// —————— J KM A S Q D KC R MR KG

New Years I had decided that I was sick of cleaning up after sick people and decided that it was up to me to be the agent of my own shitface-ness. I arrive an hour before countdown. Early enough to not be missing out on the fun but late enough to have enough of it. I hadn't gone to this point before of not being able to coordinate the joints in my legs and how they are supposed to move together. I feel like a mannequin moving the different wooden blocks of my body. My cruise through the living room is stop-motion movement at 6 frames per second. I ask KG if that means I have meningitis and if that means I will die because I heard from my sister some girl when she was in highschool shared drinks, caught some virus and forgot how to walk afterwards. I took the shots and I also took shots, so do these shots cancel out?? My heart is beating so fast? Will I die? These are fleeting worries as I engage in a heavily regulated sequence of sitting on the floor, mulling on my phone, and sashaying across MR's house to the beat of the music with a cup of water and Soju in my hands for optimal simultaneous intake. I love MR's floor. I could have a ball in here. Loopy thoughts in my head spill out of my drink. I love that drunk words and actions never mean anything. I'm seated next to D in the kitchen under dim lights when I blurt out that I hate f***ots. I'm laughing and laughing and Laughing and Sipping on my Cup. D laughs along in shock and tells me to stop. I lazily say I must be projecting.

Some in-betweeners: (11) I stop KP and KC from having their New Years Kiss because we are NOT changing teams right now while drunk and/or heartbroken and I slice their SIN with my hands. Checkmate, athiests.

(11 1/2)

(12) J envelopes me in a big bear hug he has a knack for doing and I don't understand why he is hugging me when he does not even know me. I'm being consoled as I empty my lungs in gasping heaves. I've been made physically immobile at this point and I don't feel like squeaming out from this embrace like I would usually do. It's more of a crumple. D hovers over us. Sons! Sneezed out of her nose! We do a family hug. It's a comforting one. I shake hands with J in a marriage pact that if in 40 years we still haven't found The One we would just call it a day and get married. D wants to join in, but I tell him I'm not down for threesomes. Letalone incestuous ones. I don't think it will happen but in case it does, it wouldn't hurt to fall back on history.

He tells me a few more things:

The money he spent, the Blitzcrank plush that he ordered that never came in the mail and was too shy to ask for a replacement.

The middle school cringey rejection song sent to him played on repeat as he ran laps to get swol to win the hearts of others and move on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9A52UWmmrE ; The cliche line about learning to love yourself before you love someone else and his backburner recognition that the song I sent that apparently "changed his life" like a cop-out of some manic pixie dream girl concept, might not have been for him. Bingo.

The $5 bill he snuck under one of my frontyard rocks because he thought I was broke. He asks if I ever got it. No I did not, but thanks.

My tumblr he tried to find and couldn't; the one Samantha told him I had but wouldn't give him unless they went out together.

(1) Later that night I'm limping J back to his house as he spits out foams of champagne out of his mouth. M kicks him out of his house because he's done with his shit that he dumps on others—shit that he brought about himself. (2) (3) (4) —————————————————————————————————-

#mystuff #blegh

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