To be honest, I would want to be Price and Witch’s kid instead of fuck them idk why. I have mommy and daddy issues I guess lol.
Yeah I can do that, Witch adopts a lot of people and Price... also adopts strays.
"Do you want some tea darling?" The Witch asks, crouching to be on your level, "or maybe some hot chocolate? Could perk you right up."
You think for a moment before nodding your head. You're not supposed to talk to strangers, but you've seen this witch in the neighborhood and there's something comforting about her. Her concern seems genuine as she fusses with the copper pots in her kitchen. And you really can't complain about the rich dark liquid she pours neatly into a mug for you. It certainly looks, and smells, like a melted chocolate bar. Far flung from the powdered stuff you expected.
She frowns at you for a moment, plucking at the space around you with purposeful fingers. You sip your drink, and try not to watch her too closely. She may feel warm, but her movements are alien to you, and strike at your stomach with a strange primal fear. You think it's fear, you don't quite have the word for this feeling. You're sure it will come to you.
The chocolate coats your tongue, thick and viscous, you think you can taste cinnamon under the cocoa. The Witch taps her finger against her cheek, watching you, she seems ill at ease. Obviously concerned over the strange child that's made themselves comfortable in her home. She seems to come to some conclusion, holding her hand over her mouth as she whispers something. It's inaudible and yet it fills the room, dissonant whispers echoing off the walls and collecting in a swirl of smoke.
A man steps out with a roll of his shoulders, and almost as quickly as he lays eyes on you, he's looking back at the witch.
"Where'd you get the changeling?" He asks with a raise of his brow. The Witch lets out a breath.
"Oh good, knew they felt fae," She goes to the kitchen while the man takes a seat next to you, "they just showed up, I assume they're one of the neighbor's kids."
"Is that right?" The man smiles at you, it makes his eyes crinkle at the edges, you smile back with all your teeth. He seems to like that, poking his fingers against your sides to make you giggle. "Where's your mum, hm? Can't have wandered too far off."
You shrug and the fae man nods. You like when adults don't make you talk, sometimes talking is too much. The witch taps her fingers together, thinking, while the man lets smoke swirl off his fingers. It makes little shapes and animals in the air, elephants and lions dancing around your head, butterflies flying over to distract the witch. You hold your hand out for one, and watch a lion burst into a flock of penguins to waddle across your palm.
"I can run a trace, I suppose," The Witch sighs walking closer, she crouches to be at eye level with you, "Can I have a pinch of your hair darling? I promise it won't hurt a bit."
You don't know if you want to give a witch your hair. It seems dangerous, that's how witches take control of people. You look at the man for help, surely he knows how witches work and won't let this one puppet you around. He chuckles, leaning his elbow against the table to rest his head against his fist. He nods at you.
"Go on then, I'll make sure she doesn't do anything nasty." He assures you. You look back at the Witch, who's glaring at your new friend.
"Don't make me sound so wicked," She scolds him.
"Don't need my help for that sweetheart," There's something warm in his voice, something that makes the whole house light up with warmth as the Witch bites down a smile.
She's very careful with you, pressing her fingers against your scalp as she twists hair around her fingers, plucking a few stray strands before pulling away again. She's right, it doesn't hurt. You rub your head, and she turns it back towards your mug of liquid chocolate. You think that's payment enough.
You don't watch what she does with your hair, but you feel the shiver of it. It's like a little zap of electricity, a stray shock from rubbing your socks against carpet. You wrinkle your nose at the feeling, it's not unbearable, but it's unpleasant. You consider peaking at what the Witch is doing, but you catch sight of your new fae friend first, and watching him watch her is much more interesting.
His eyes spark, and you mean that literally. There's a fire behind them that traces its way around his iris each time he blinks. A spark of gold against ice blue. A shooting star in a snowstorm. His eyes smile, and even though his fingers stop you from seeing his lips you assume they're smiling at well. You glance at the witch and see her hold up a vial of black powder to the light, her eyes studying it as she tips it one way then the other. It's not anything interesting, you don't see what's worth staring at.
"Can you make a bear?" You ask the man, he hums questioningly before looking at you. "They're my favorite," You explain.
"Can I make a bear?" He scoffs, swirling his fingers to collect the smoke. The wisps of it draw together and burst with a spark into the silhouette of a brown bear. It plods along the table top before sitting down to look around. It's a good bear.
"I know a good story about a bear," You tell him. He raises a brow, and doesn't stop you as you chatter away telling your favorite fairy tale. In fact his smoke seems to act out the scenes for you, stopping and restarting as you try to remember details. By the time you finish there's no more sound coming from the witch's work, and you're starting to notice the "lovely princess" and "handsome prince" smoke figures look a lot like your hosts.
"I called their mum," The witch tells the man, setting a cup of tea in front of him. "She should be here soon." The fae man snaps his fingers and the smoke disperses.
"One of the neighbors?" He asks, and she hums in confirmation. He tugs at her hand, pulls her down to perch on his lap with a quiet word.
"Are you alright to go home dear?" She asks you, and you think she means it. Sometimes people ask you things but they don't really want an answer, they just want to ask. You nod after a moment's thought. She looks relieved. "If you ever get lost again, you can call me,-" she hands you a little black card with gold lettering, it looks very official, "-I'll get you back home."
You turn the card over. There's no name on it just a phone number, an address, and one word, "Witch." You're studying one of the gold stars on the corner of it when there's a knock at the door. The Witch stands to answer it, and the fae man's touch lingers on her hip before she moves away. He gives you a wink as she pulls the door open, as if his affections are a conspiracy between the two of you. You hop off your chair and he catches your arm.
"Price," He tells you quietly, it feels like an important word so you nod solemnly. He smiles, "Go on back to your mum, and don't go spreading my name around."
You hold onto your mother's hand as you wave good-bye. She thanks the Witch profusely, though she waves all of them off. You watch the gold slip off of her like water, humans are so funny like that. They never hold onto heavy ties, kind only for the sake of kindness.
"Do you know how worried I was?" Your mother scolds you, "You're lucky someone dangerous didn't find you."
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oc meme
tagged by: @galedekarios. thank uu hun 💕
B A S I C S
- Full name: Caoimhee ("beloved, gentle, kind, graceful") Laira (“soul, spirit, light”) Thirfaen (“wandering, drifting”). Previously Ahren (“mountain of strength”)-Sgéin (“achiever of greatness”)
- Gender: Female
- Sexuality: Demi/Pansexual
- Pronouns: She/her
O T H E R
- Family: Ahren-Sgéin, farmers and merchants
-> Father: Eduard Sgéin
-> Mother: Julianna Ahren
-> Adoptive Mother/Caretaker: Rauha Thirfaen
- Birthplace: Greenest
- Job: Archivist - Records management + Preservation
- Phobias: Athazagoraphobia, Catagelophobia, Cleithrophobia, Phonophobia - particularly the sound of marbles
- Guilty pleasures: Coming up with new culinary atrocities, poofy dresses, word scrambles, murder mysteries & trashy novels (less guilty on the last one)
- Hobbies: Reading/writing, history, poetry, collecting, arts & crafts (quilling, embroidery, jewelry making, sculpturing)
M O R A L S
- Alignment: Neutral Good
- Sins: Sloth, Envy
- Virtues: Prudence, Humility, Reliability, Compassion
T H I S O R T H A T
- Introvert / Extrovert
- Organized / Disorganized (on both ends of the spectrum simultaneously)
- Close-minded / Open-minded
- Calm / Anxious / Restless
- Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between
- Cautious / Reckless / In between
- Patient / Impatient / In between
- Outspoken / Reserved / In between
- Leader / Follower / Flexible
- Empathetic / Unempathetic / In between
- Optimist / Pessimist / Realist
- Traditional / Modern / In between
- Hard-working / Lazy (she contains multitudes)
R E L A T I O N S H I P S
- OTP: Gale/Caoimhee — Best friends. Birds of a Feather. Soulmates.
- Acceptable Ships: None
- OT3: None
- Brotp: Yes
-> Karlach/Caoimhee — Caoimhee is the yin to Karlach’s yang, they balance each other out perfectly. Caoimhee relishes in Karlach’s impulsivity, go-getter attitude, and particular brand of chaos, while her rational and reflective input helps Karlach with navigating her restlessness and staying grounded. Both are very protective of each other.
-> Shadowheart/Caoimhee — They relate to each other on a deep level, even with differing circumstances. Caoimhee greatly appreciates Shadowheart’s snark and dry humor, as well as the kind heart underneath. While Shadowheart is pleasantly surprised by Caoimhee’s patience and understanding, deeming her a calming and trustworthy presence. They continue to seek each other out for advice.
- Notp: Any combination that isn’t Gale/Caoimhee
tagging: @promakodriver, @say-lene, @ra-scheln, @senualothbrok, @dreamingofthewild, @villainanders, @laserlope, @eilistraaee, @tinleafart, @leofrith and anyone else who wants to do this!
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Ok but what if another turning point for the world power dynamic was the Suez Crisis of 1956. France and England were adamant that they control the canal while the US and USSR were (surprisingly) collaborative in their demand for a cease-fire in the region. I can just imagine Alfred storming into a meeting room with a storm in his eyes yelling at these two raggedy fucks to quit their dumb-ass behaviour. Giving them an eloquent lecture in front of the world. The room full of nations, still recovering from all the events of recent years, going quiet while both Arthur and Francois (for probably not the first time) start reevaluating their roles in the evolving global landscape.
Arthur would likely have felt a mix of anger, embarrassment, and surprise. He had grown accustomed to being an influential world power, and being confronted so forcefully by Alfred, especially as his son, would have challenged his sense of authority and superiority. Despite his pride, Arthur would also have acknowledged a sense of resignation, knowing deep down that the world was changing and that his empire's dominance was waning.
Arthur has a complex relationship with his children, and Alfred holds a special place in his heart as his favorite child (I'm sorry but it's true). He might recognize Alfred's achievements as a reflection of his own influence and guidance, feeling a slight mixture of satisfaction and pride in seeing his protege step into a position of power. Seeing the United States, a former colony, rise to prominence and challenge the established powers could evoke a sense of pride in Arthur as he recognizes the legacy of British influence and ideals that have shaped the nation.
Arthur does recognize the accomplishments of his "wayward son" to a degree. (what a loser)
Francois would definitely feel anger. Even stronger than Arthur, I think. The failure and backlash of the crisis would have strongly wounded his pride. He would display a certain stubbornness and reluctance to accept the changing dynamics of power, more so than Arthur. His pride and desire to assert France's influence might have led him to defend his nation's actions during the Suez Crisis, even in the face of mounting criticism and geopolitical realities. (huge loser)
The Suez Crisis, a focal point of tension, becoming a catalyst for transformation, shaping the dynamics of power and diplomacy for generations to come. In that meeting room, the world witnessed the birth of a new era, where old empires bowed to the demands of a changing world.
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