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coming soon, just gotta cry one more time
𝔓 rince florian
𝔒 f stiria
imagine the world through the very pretty vibrant blue
eyes of a downright killer. why should people fake
niceties to each other when it clearly was all a lie? why
should people act decent when everyone had a carnal
demon eating away inside them, begging to come out
and play? florian let his demons out long ago and he has
never felt freer before. he never understood the need for
kindness when all of the kind acts he experienced were
either due to duty or his title. he grew up believing that
kindness stemmed from self interest but if kindness was
forged solely for self indulgence then florian might as
well not be kind at all. he likes to think that he's the
only real prince to exist. the one that speaks it like it is,
with fluff and without bullshit. he mistakes his own
bluntness with honesty, not understanding the difference
between being a prince, and being royalty. not his
fault, really. while being only three years younger than
the heir to the throne, their upbringing was completely
different. percy's mother gave birth to the next light of
stiria. the prince who would pull the kingdom from the
shadows of their brutal father. but florian's whore of a
mother gave birth to a bastard; stiria's next sinister
nightmare if he would ever sit on the throne. when he
becomes king- not if, but when- he will
rule with a fist of crackling flame and rusting blood. he
will surpass the legacy of his father. he will be next red
king. he will make stiria an unrelenting power that should
never be dealt with. but there were obstacles in his way,
of course. and florian wasn't in a hurry anyways. with all
eyes on the eldest and none on him, it has given florian
much leeway to run amok, treat his kingdom like his personal
playground from hell. one of the perks of being the
forgotten child. the powerless and disgraced bastard.
florian looked up to his father. no matter his flaws,
the occasional bruise on florian's stomach, or the
often locked doors of his bedroom chamber, he still
found it in his heart to admire the heartless man. and
for no reason, actually. the king couldn't find a second
of his time to look his children's way, much less actually
act like a father to florian. but his father's power was
a fact ingrained into his mind since the first day with a
tutor (of course, one that his father chose, and whose
teachings his father controlled) but nonetheless, florian
grew up believing his father was god. it is safe to
say florian has a total oedipus complex. but of course,
without a present mother, all his affection turned
toward the king. from a young age, he was made aware
that he didn't have a mother. that his mother was not
the queen and that fact dictated that he was lowly, a
disgrace to the royal name. but florian didn't mind. he
didn't need a mother at all. just his father. but of course,
florian's affections fell to deaf ears and eyes that simply
didn't want to see his son. he would sit on the cold floors
of the hallways where he knew his father would pass just
so he could jump up and ask for some time spent with
him only to be ignored like a was just a ghost in the
ancient withering walls. as he grew older, he would take
the meal trays and wine glasses from the maid, only to
deliver them to his father's room himself, and only to
be kicked out a second later with a ' go spar with your
brother.' all he ever wanted was his father's attention.
it was okay if the king hated him. hell, florian would
have been fine if his father hurt him again, anything as
long as the king noticed.
living with no empathy for the rest of his family after
his father's death was as easy as drawing blood. florian
blamed them for everything. for his upbringing, for his
pain, for his loss, for the king's death, for his loneliness.
he blamed them for it all. even though his inability to form
relationships and attachments came from his own selfishness
and his need to use people like their were disposable.
he protected his heart around a thorn cage and he'd cut
the hands off of anyone who tried to reach for it. he was
really alone in this world, or so he felt like it. but he was
alright with that fact. at least he wouldn't have to pretend
to like someone he actually despised. that is why he is
someone who takes matters into his own hands. and
whatever he is involved, there will most likely be blood
spilled. he grew up getting everything he wanted, which is why he has no qualms about taking whatever he needs. even if a life was lost, or a body. with no remorse of guilt for anything, the
kingdom should really fear it's fate if he were to
ever become king.some say his sadism stemmed from his
father. he says his sadism is what killed him.
𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍
he may bite off more than he can chew. he may bark louder than what his lungs allow. and he may care deeply for people who have no empathy for him. but that is alright. no losses, no gains. life will reward him someday for his troubles and hard work. the gods will realize that he has suffered enough already and will grow seeds of success and wealth and happiness in his pathway. they will.
it's what he repeats to himself whenever he finds a new obsession.
on some days, everything was okay. but on others, his self hatred and self loathe made him scream on his knees. why must he live this way? why couldn't have he been born into a different family with no responsibilities. he grew up oh so fast, never able to experience an actual childhood. why must there be a cross to bear over his shoulders when he was still so young and naive and unaware of the cruelty of the world? why must his parents expect so much yet provide so little. and his brother. his perfect and precious baby brother whom he would cross the oceans for; why must he rely on justice for so many things
the man has no faults.okay maybe he acts on a whim, does first questions later, but that doesn't make him bad. no not at all, it makes him assertive. maybe he is also selfish enough to first save his own ass in any kind of situation before thinking of others, but that doesn't make him bad either, just more self-aware. it's also not his fault that he developed a raw talent for thievery. no, no, it was just how he survived. it was also society's fault for even having a social hierarchy that forced him to live poorly, which in turn forced him to steal.
don't hold it against him that he cannot take responsibility for his actions. but also dont take it against him that he is always two steps ahead of everyone. despite his shortcomings, he knows his way. he knows how to survive.
he doesn't know what he is capable of. he doesn't know what he could do. he doesn't know how to stop. he pushes people away, whether it was unintentional or not. maybe the latter, at times. but that's not really his fault. okay, maybe just a bit. but his mind tell him he can't trust them. everyone will hurt him. he can't trust anyone. no one. not one person. no, no, they are all the same. he doesn't need anyone. he has the knowledge to survive on his own. he can do it.
if only he knew he was delusional and paranoid.
life was meaningless. he followed the same routine that at times he would blink once and the sun had already set. he missed the sunset. how could he do that? how could he black out hours and hours of his day and not remember them? must be the gods. or those awful witches who have recently moved in his tiny village in the outskirts of aecor. they must be bewitching him.
he's so very impulsive, it will be the death of him one day. he tries to hold himself back, but it never works. he can't control himself, it seems. he stole for a living to live but he only got arrested because he panicked. you see, that wasn't his fault either. his beloved brother was dying. and justice couldn't just sit and watch him coat their bedroom walls with his blood. so he stole medicine. from the palace. while the healers were there. yes, it was stupid but it wasn't his fault. his hands were forced. besides, the healers were magicians anyways. how did they know when he entered the palace anyways when no one else noticed him? magic! he could have also stashed the medicine and ran instead of strike a healer in his throat and pin the other against the floor but it was either his life or theirs. his hand was forced. he also could have taken his punishment like a good commoner and left but his brother was dying and he needed to flee as soon as possible. okay maybe he did not need to kill the guard watching him, but it was either justice's life or his. so by now he has stolen precious medicine, attacked two royal healers, killed a palace guard... escaped... oh yes, he was about to be hanged. but oh wait, the championship. oh yes, why not participate in that and die because he has no fighting skills instead of die anyways. seemed like no matter what he did, he would die at the end.
[x] his laughter ran the loudest that the walls would continue their echo long after the silence.
[x] visits from his favorite uncle filled his belly with exotic treats and his imagination of stories from the elder's travels. florian would be the first to hug the man, only reaching his thigh at that age and he would climb the man's long legs until he was seated comfortably on his lap. he craved the touch of his father. but ares was warmer anyways. and he always smelled like grapes. almost like grapes. like sweet grapes but bitter grapes.
florian loved grapes.
[x] he was deathly afraid of the water. he hated the baths the maids gave him in his chambers but he hated the lake even more. the vast deep mysteriousness of the water frightened him. percy would be the first to jump and the others followed. but florian remained at his mother's knees, clutching her dress in his small fists as if it was a lifeline.
[x] he watched his siblings find their powers
' your time will come, little flower' his mother's sweet voice always reassured him. he didn't care so much that he was powerless. it meant he had no extra responsibility. he could play more instead of learn how to use his power. his lack of power was amazing
[x] florian always picked the best hiding spots. he was oh so tiny he could fit in the smallest of crevices. he was unusually tiny for his age but he saw it almost as a super power. he could zip in between people
[x] the only reason fat tears dripped down his rosy cherub cheeks were because he was tired and sleepy and cranky. he always felt better in the morning. or after a long nap with his head on ares' lap and the man's hands playing with his soft hair.
[x] his only pain came from scraped knees or play fight bruises. the pain was almost always followed by laughter
[x] florian had a pet cat named nana when he was three. she was a fiesty little thing that scratched anything or anyone coming too close to her. but she followed little florian around like he replaced her mother. he named her himself, after his favorite fruit. he thought that she knew, because whenever the maids brought him mashed bananas, she would mew softly. he would let her lick some off his spoon when the maids weren't looking.
[x] nana not only protected herself but she would hiss at anyone coming close to florian too, even if it was just his siblings. It was a shame she was a small domestic cat and could only weakly scratch at the king's ankles as florian, who was raised into the air but hands around his throat, gasped and choked under his father's grip until his face turned an ugly shade of blue. the king thought the same too and commented on it. then, probably tired of the scratching, the king dropped the five year old's body and delivered a violent kick to the side of the cat. florian could only watch in horror as her body flew into the air and landed harshly against the wall, a horrific crunch sound following the thud. Nana bled out and died as he laid limp on the floor, unable to catch his breath quick enough to recover.
[x] no one knew why he hated cats
[x] this unexplained fear of the water mysteriously rose when florian was only a day older than seven years. his birthday present was his father's hand pushing his thrashing body into a rigid bath in his chamber and waterfilled lungs that heaved on the floors. he never told a soul.
[x] no one knew why he hated the water.
[x] the nightmares kept him up at night. no child should ever feel their only escape from the world being replaced with nightmares. he used to find solace in his dreams. now he only found the monster that has been showing up over and over again. ares helped. he always went to ares. he would finally be able to sleep when ares hugged him tightly. only in the man's arms, did he feel the most safe and secure.
[x] he told ares about the scary man in his dreams.
" you have to be brave, flo"
he looked up, voice dripping with fear and eyes dripping with tears
"how?"
"well... your father is big and strong. And he has very strong warriors. He will protect you."
" really? "
there was sad look in the man's eyes that went unnoticed by the oblivious child.
[x] the young boy was asleep, thumb inching to his mouth in an old habit to find comfort. ares reaches out and held his hand instead so florian wouldn't place it in his mouth and ruin his teeth. florian felt the touch and immediately squeezed his uncle's hand. he was half asleep.
" goodnight, little flower." ares mumbled and pressed a gentle kiss against his temple. he was half asleep. half asleep and half away in a dream that he wished was a reality. he mumbled a
" nigh , daddy"
and ares could only stare in sadness.
Niall Evexas stiriaearth wielder eighteenpersonal guard
"opium poppy"
his life was bliss. nial was a beacon of life compared to the royal family surrounding him. he lived with them, ate with them, grew up playing chase with the princes and princess, yet he was so unlike them all. he had hope for a future and no regrets of the past. he thought the royals regretted everything and despised the future. even though his grew up inside the palace walls, his father sheltered him from the darkness that moved with the shadows. however, as he grew up and trained to become a guard himself, just like his father, he became more and more aware of the nightmare occuring behind closed doors. yet he found himself unable to look away. And unable to run away. many things held him back. his father's unyielding loyalty to the royal family, the hope that someday, the royal siblings and himself would be able to become friends againn; that they would see him as that young chubby boy who helped them built forts and play catch instead of just another staff member. and there was the young prince, jules. who did not just give niall hope, he was his hope. the young prince was the only one who spoke to niall and cared for him for all that he was: just a simple, grateful man who enjoyed everything life had to offer. but things turned complicated after his father's death. It was no coincidence that his father died due to "poisoning" shortly after the king's death. After all, his father was most loyal to him. the death, the heart break, the grieving, it changed niall. he was still that hopeful beacon of light in the dark palace. but a seed of darkness planted inside of him. he grew impatient quicker, snapped at others whenever he became irritated. he overworked himself with training to take his mind off everything. if anything were to take his moral and humanity away, they would find themselves a human killing machine. he took solace in his power. yet that, like all else, took a dark turn. he used them to grow poppy, the very flower he took to an herbalist in the villages to make him opium. it was safe to say he was entirely dependent at this point.
the stirian royal family were a disease to human kind. whatever they touched rotted from the inside out. but there was still the young prince, whom niall would follow to hell and heaven. hopefully the latter.
well, here's to hope.
CHARACTER SHEETS
twenty six
blah blah blah
𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐙𝐎𝐘𝐀
jaden had seen from a young age the faults in the system. it was supposed to be all perfect right? that's what they said. well then they should explain why his mother would much rather become an invalid with a man she "loved" then be there for her actual husband and child. yeah, he thought so. it wasn't perfect at all. he used to blame her when he was a child. he used to cry at night and hope that she would come back for him, that she would stop making his father said. he especially hated when his father was sad. but she never came back and he outgrew these wishes. as he got older, the blame he had in his heart shifted toward the rest of the world. there were faults in the system. unethical and immoral faults. he believed that the need to repopulate shouldn't trump over the free will of man kind. the matching system helped the few but it inconvenienced the many. the system became the norm in a society that should have only used it to survive. and now that they were thriving, they should have abandoned it. but it lingered like an invasive species. but his opinions could get him killed, even if he knew that they were shared by many. he'll stay quiet, just like all of them. and when the time is right, they would strike. but for now, he had an art gallery to manage. barely.
FLOREILI flora CADE
the twenty year old registered for the match as soon as she turned twenty. she had always lived her life on the dot, never too slow and never too fast. she was and is a total rule follower, ditching her younger years of bliss to study and work and provide for her mother. it was a duty she hated and a life she couldn't wait to get out of. she loved her parents, her hardworking, loving parents that showed her nothing short of support and adoration. but she had higher goals and aspirations. she wanted to do more with her life than serve coffee for the overly rich. she wanted to be on the other side of the counter for a change, wrists so heavy with gold and diamonds that she could barely keep a hold on her designer purse. she is ambition to the point that she doesn't care who she climbs over to get to the top. she wasn't one for friends anyways so she can't really miss what she never had. she believed that there is nothing wrong with wanting more. neither will she stops until she gets what she wants. she just hopes that she will be matched with someone worthwhile and someone who will succeed. she doesn't even care if they love each other. it is easier to learn to love a stranger than to live with nothing.
heavensdevil_
heavensdevil_ who's up for a lil boat race?
𝙎
toddler temper tantrums grew in intensity the way he grew in size. people usually question if monsters like him are born that way or if the world turns them. is evil born or made, that was what everyone wondered. in his case, it was both and it was neither. it just is. he just happened to have violent streak. he just happened to have explosive anger. and an inflated ego. and bursts of self image issues. and the absence of a single decent healthy relationship. and also the absence of remorse for the way he leaves a wreck after entering people's lives. and a tendency to like the discoloring of people's skin after his fits of rage. he also just happens to like the way blood drips, it's color, it's texture. he happens to like the eerie pitch of screams. or the muffled soft whimpers of a sob. he just happened to be that way. he bid his conscience goodbye a long time ago and never looked back for it. his late father knew there was something wrong with him, but of course he never bothered to care. After all, Stefan was tossed aside when the baton for king was taken from him and handed to his half brother. What used to be a beacon of hope to the kingdom, the result of unfortunate miscarriages and an inevitable surrogacy, became a reminder of the queen's failure at conceiving an heir. He had it all and then some, if the true heir, the king and queen's rightful love child, hadnt been born and stripped Stefan of every title belonging to him. Stefan was tossed aside and abandoned like rusted armor the moment his existence didn't serve the king a purpose. He was treated like the plague. In turn, he became one.
impulsivity coursed through his blood, passed down through generations. the people of aecor believed that beauty was the royal genetic trait, that somehow a tall figure and dark hair proved royal blood. But Stefan knew better. He knew that generational trauma in the form of wrath, mercilessness, and an unexplained hunger for spilled blood was all that the king passed down to him. there was no beauty in his inhumanity. his presence in the castle presented an imminent threat to the natural succession of power. He was a physical reminder that one day, if he ever desired it, he could easily take back the crown. at his father's behest, he left to travel to ease some of the unrest. If only he could have predicted that the golden crown would end up atop his head at the end. He might have just killed his half brother in his sleep from a young age for putting him through all this trouble.
INCIDENT WITNESS STATEMENT FORM
Statement Date: 12/02/2020
DETAILS OF WITNESSIncident Date: 12/01/2020
Name: Armani Zaya
Address: 621 W Orchard Hills RD
City: Atlanta
Home Phone: (404) 667 - 7628STATEMENT:
(Alright Mr.Zaya, what is your relationship with the deceased?) She has a name, you know. It's Nadine. (My apologies- with Nadine?) I don't know. We didn't have a relationship. Acquaintances, I guess? I saw her every once in a while. ( So how come you got upset that I didn't use her name, if you don't know her that well?) Because it's common human decency, officer, don't you think? ( Yes, anyways. Tell me what you were doing around 11:34 pm on December first?) I don't remember. ( Mr. Zaya, it is crucial that you cooperate with us.) And I'm telling you that I don't remember. I went to a party around ten and next thing I know, I'm back in my room at 2 PM and I have the worst headache of my life. (Were you with anyone? Well, sure. Probably people from school? The place was packed and we were all in the penthouse and the view was nice so I'm sure you'll find pictures and videos from the party on social media if you look hard enough. But I seriously don't remember. I think I drank a lot.
( Do you know anyone by the name of Leo Medina?) Is this a joke? What does that have to do with Nadine's death? (Just answer the question, Mr. Zaya) ... he's a friend. But why are you asking? Do you think- is there a connection? Have you found anything? Oh god- is he dead? (Calm down Mr. Zaya. This is just protocol.) I don't see any protocol from asking about a year old case that you guys are doing nothing about. You know, I read that the first 72 hours after a kidnapping are the most crucial. After that, there isn't much hope. And what has Atlanta PD been doing, hm? 10,950 hours have passed since he disappeared. Tell me what you have been doing this whole time, cunt. Silence.
(I hope you have calmed down now, Mr. Zaya. Tell me about what happened during your group trip to Miami last year. I didn't even want to go. I wanted to work before the next semester so that I could buy an apartment but Max and the others convinced me to go. Something about deserving a break after all the hard work. Anyways, so I went. I ended up enjoying it actually. I had never been on a trip like that before, you know? Money has always been a little tight. Anyways. It was pretty fun up until our last night there, at least. (What happened that night?) It was our last week there. I think we collectively started to get more out of control. To get our fills of the vacation, you know? We drank more than usual, partied harder than usual- (Weren't you 20 at the time?) There's a missing person and a dead body, and you want to ask me about underage drinking? As I was saying. We started to get out of control. I went to bar-hop with Angel. We weren't even drinking properly at this point, we just wanted to experiment all the different bars around downtown. I don't know how or when we made it back but there was yelling everywhere. People were arguing, Leo and a couple of others looked upset. Then I realized: Xavier cheated on Leo with none other than my dear friend max. I didn't know Xavier all that well. But looking at Leo's face at the time made me get so - so fucking angry at Max. I wanted to just strangle him right then and there. I remember Leo leaving and I would have followed him if I just wasn't so angry. I figured someone could help him more than I would. I'm not really the affectionate type, even though I care about him a lot. I argued with Max almost until morning. That's basically what I remember. (Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Zaya. We will reach out if we need anything else)
THE ABOVE STATEMENTS WERE MADE BY ME OF MY OWN FREE WILL.
SIGNATURE:DATE:12/02/2020 TIME:4:57 PM
WITNESS:DATE: 12/02/2020 TIME:4:57 PM
Statement Date: 12/02/2020
DETAILS OF WITNESSIncident Date: 12/01/2020
Name: Nicale Leveen Volkov
Address: 201 N Diamond Cir
City: Atlanta
Home Phone: (404) 892 - 6439STATEMENT:
(Before we begin, I would like to express my condolences, Mr. Volkov.) Leveen. (pardon? My last name is Leveen. I kept my biological father's family name. ( I see. And were you close with Nadine?) Not really. Our parents married two years ago. Before that, I hadn't known her. Or anyone actually. I moved here from Los Angeles with my mom after she got engaged to Quin, that's my step dad. We moved here and they got married. (Two years is still a long time. I'm sure you know some things about her that her friends don't, living in the same house and all.) I told you, I don't. Im rarely at home and we don't talk much when I am. We have- had- different interests and different lives. I won't be much help to you if you want to know her darkest secrets and all that.
(Your neighbors said they noticed the two of you arguing in front of your house a couple hours before she died. Will you tell me what happened.) It was nothing. A small argument. I left and spent the night at a friend's place. (What did you argue about? I won't answer that. (You're majoring in law, aren't you?) Yes.
(Before we wrap this up, I want to ask if you know Leo Medina) I don't. Don't ask me about Nadine's friends. I didn't really talk to them. (Well did you accompany your step sister to the spring trip to Miami?) No I didn't. ( How come?) Are you always this nosy? I was in rehab, is that what you want to know? Now, if we're done here, I have to go comfort my mourning parents.
THE ABOVE STATEMENTS WERE MADE BY ME OF MY OWN FREE WILL.
SIGNATURE:DATE:12/02/2020 TIME:4:57 PM
WITNESS:
Nothing is as devastating as a would-have-been. The unrealized potential of possession and potential of becoming that vanished due to error births regret and sorrow. He had the riches, and the title of a soon to be youngest ever guard commander. He had his parent's pride and a rightful ego all at a fingertip's reach. Had he not held on to this dream so tightly, it might not have shattered in his hand. Keslan was always special and he let it get to his head. He allowed carelessness to replace motivation and greed to replace drive. Keslan was completely at fault for the accident despite his lack of autonomy at the time. But he let the agony of the would-have-been consume him. The years that succeeded the accident were anything but pleasant, nothing short of miserable. He was a lonesome soul wandering the world of a jeering collective that somehow always found a way to alienate him from their midst; he could never be one of them and soon enough, he stopped trying to. New motivations raised from the core of his blessed gift and he realized that his purpose in this world was to be a destroyer, an instigator of people's darkest sin; vengeance and any emotion involved with it. He had a gift, a violent one that those with money to spare and an image to protect would sell their souls if they could to have at their disposal; and Keslan was not above using that chaotic gift to rise up from the ruins once again. If anything, Enyo herself should fear the monster she created.
+ confident ( perhaps a little excessively), determined, still slightly moral, intuitive
- pessimistic, careless, arrogant, egotistical, temperamental
Ordinary was truly the only word that could describe the day. Twenty-four approximate hours generalized into mere four syllables. Monotonous. Uneventful. Unvarying.
Monochrome. 3.
Arid. 2.
Bland. 1.
Twenty four hours were a lifetime too little.
The dreary gray-scale trees in the distance and the empty breeze that caught pedestrians by surprise were blander than the drab dress resting heavily atop her otherwise appealing figure, almost as if weighing her down; sharp shoulders nothing but a hanger for the light blue burlap sack. The repetitive boxy shape of the leafy hedges and bushes sprawled against the garden’s perimeters were as insulting to look at as the delicate braid adorning the top half of her head, mimicking an angelic halo in the most disturbing way. She must have nearly numbed her fingers to death trying to undo and redo the braid until it satisfied her frantic taste. She had looked oh so perfect walking down the stony pathway, sidestepping fallen leaves so as to not make any sudden noise and make her presence known.
But Novan knew.
She was so stupid, thinking that he wouldn’t hear the click and clack of her sharp heel, the blunt sound a tedious omen.
Nevertheless, he kept his gaze lowered to the tattered book splayed open on a random unread page -- words still unrealized and univoked -- to gift her the enjoyment of reaping in the fruits of her stealth. That is what one does in the presence of affection toward a being as cherubic and vibrant as she. Sacrifice replaces ego.
He only lifted his gaze and stood up when she jumped in front of him, the ugly sound that her heels and the rocky surface made together forcing a shiver down his spine. He didn’t return the bright grin she sent his way. She looked oh so perfect. Novan couldn’t stand it.
“ You’re upset.” She still smiled, like the freshly bloomed magnolia that refused to shrivel and bow before a testing world. Yet Novan could see that worry now clouded her vision instead of it’s previous dweller: expectancy.
“ No, I’m not upset. I’m just breaking up with you.” To Novan, this affection felt like a parasite that he must eliminate in that short, ordinary, monotonous twenty four hours.
He watched her draw in one short transient breath and still rigidly, feet rooted to the rocky pathway. Her eyes desperately searched his face for a sliver of farce only to find his gaze dead set back on her. This must be a practical joke, something he would use to divert her attention away from his real purpose for asking to meet in the garden, only to laugh out at his own humorously condescending antics before dropping to one knee. But Novan didn’t. He remained as frigid as her only momentarily before he thought his posture to be too serious and sat back down on the stone bench immediately to force casualty into the situation. His pretty girlfriend no longer bloomed like the array of flowers arranged expertly in his father’s garden, or the never empty vases littering every nook and cranny of his home. Despite its large size, his house felt suffocating with how much flora clung to every pore of oxygen that he tried to desperately grasp onto for himself. Novan briefly wondered how long it might take him to not think of the woman whenever he saw an exceptionally beautiful flower. Perhaps never. But perhaps even the colorless dead flowers will remind him of her too.
“ We were supposed to get married.” In a perfect world, they would have. In her head and dreams, they probably have already, about a thousand times.
If Novan rampaged with pure idiocy and a blundering monologue, maybe he’ll make her confused enough that the heartbreak and betrayal might shrivel back up inside her ribcage.
“ Key word: married… Actually, no, keyword: supposed. We’re supposed to do so much in such little time. Average of 80 years is not a lot, you know. We’re supposed to be good to our parents from birth but that’s quite impossible given the disgusting nature of children. Have you ever met a child? They’re horrendous. We’re supposed to succeed in school and find a good career but we can’t all be geniuses with a fucking purpose. We’re supposed to find happiness by settling down with a partner we love and have children, an average of 2.5. What the fuck is up with humans and averages, by the way? Even how many times you shit was made into an average. Anyways, after you marry, you’re supposed to find a house and work until you die. But before you do that, you’re supposed to return the favor to your parents for raising you and provide for them until their last breath. And before I forget, you’re supposed to pledge allegiance to pretentious brats and go to war and die for them if they ask you to because some old man in a tiara decided that was what we were supposed to do. So yeah, 99 problems I’m supposed to solve and marrying you certainly won’t be one of them.”
By the time his lips met in a thin line, tongue dragging across the dried surface, he was slightly out of breath. Even she probably felt winded just from hearing him speak and like the stupid girl she was, she completely ignored his rant to instead ask the most stupid question that her stupid little brain could muster up.
“ Didn’t you say you loved me?”
In his shock, Novan let out a small laugh. Quite insignificant but kudos to her for managing a genuine laugh out of him.
“ I do love you. I love you in a way that if I were to plunder and burn the entire world for you, I will. I love you enough to sacrifice the world, but not sacrifice my life for you.”
Novan’s prediction came true. Even dead flowers reminded him of her too. So did particularly uneventful days such as that one.
twenty
Humans are social creatures. Intimacy breeds them and society raises them; to be alone is to be marked and to be marked is an inescapable disease. Somehow lonely people stay lonely until the day they die, a concrete tombstone and six feet of dirt separating them from other humans even in the after death. One truly never escapes loneliness, even if one, hypothetically, throws money at the feet of desperate men and women. Or if one, hypothetically, bribes others with trivial worldly values that mean the same thing as the dirt below one's shoe. Drugs. Alcohol. Titles. Glory. Or perhaps if one, hypothetically, surrounds themselves with as many empty faces they can find, never truly recognizing a name or a unique feature that tells of their humanity. It's all faceless, nameless... soulless. To be lonely is to not have a soul. Or a life worth living. For this reason, Novan made sure to lead a life as empty as his lungs and as meaningless as the tombstone and the small plot of land his father has already assigned him for when he dies. For this reason, Novan grew to cherish the loneliness, finding comfort in the sight of people's backs and the gravel in their curses. To be lonely is to have freedom.
Not that there was anything really missing in Novan's life. A doting mother and a very present and caring father, albeit a bit controlling, but what father doesn't want the best for his one and only son. Some people are just meant to walk through this world alone and that is how they find their own path and succeed. However, Novan wasn't one of those people. He walked alone and he got lost and he found comfort in that loss. He doesn't want to be found and he doesn't even want to find a "purpose". If he so much as sees a hint of responsibility and obligation, he will run the other way, even if it's toward the belly of the beast. Even if it's toward self-ruin. He has and will continue to singlehandedly ruin every good thing that comes his way, including other people. It's not because he wants to be alone so desperately, but perhaps it's because he's just... antagonistic. Ask him about it and he would say if evil didn't exist, then neither would good, so really, perhaps he should be thanked for existing. He certainly thinks so! In fact, he thinks the entire world should bow and kiss the ground he walks on in respect and grant him anything he asked for in adoration. Novan knows that it's his world and others simply revolve around it. He sees everyone else, with their pathetic need for social comforts, as nothing but pawns to be be manipulated and played with. To be lonely is to have a dark weight on your shoulders and Novan is more than happy to carry that cross.
thirty - male - mated
paladin - fire dragon
head of guardssakaguchi kentaro
[＋] sociable, energetic, confident
[－] impulsive, boisterous, argumentative
[ ♡ ] embroidery, lace, plums, arrivan
[ × ] calloused hands, physical exertion
