(catchall / closed)

[paraselenes]

WHO: dimitri & co
WHERE: here and there
WHEN: december
WHAT: catch-all for the month! will include some basic prompts + more specific closed starters, but feel free to wildcard me if we have plans! here is my plotting comment.
WARNINGS: will mark where necessary

Comments

🎄mistletoe

[paraselenes]

[ Whether it's outside in the cold, or his Serene apartment, or around Stygia in general—there's enough of the Accursed Weed everywhere that he's bound to get caught up in it eventually. Multiple times. Please free him, this isn't in the courtship handbook and he doesn't know what to do. help ]

This again?

[ He'll shoot whoever is also here an apologetic look, very quick to tack on: ]

Um. We do not have to do anything.

[ They can just accept death. Or a curse. ]

[boarwitness]

[felix doesn't say anything, but his expression says it all—exasperated ire. he is standing on the counter in the kitchen, in the middle of attempting to cut the mistletoe down, precisely so this wouldn't happen in the first place. there's a garbage bag filled with more mistletoe nearby.

mentally, dimitri can feel a jolt of alarm. what now. what fresh hell would this mistletoe avoidance bring. a sprite at his ankles chitters furiously. he covers his mouth as he coughs out a black cloud—then a peony.]

I don't plan to.

[and back he goes to hacking the sprigs down.]

[paraselenes]

[ No sense in telling Felix to stop, even though he should really save his energy. The mistletoe will just spring back like festive little weeds. But maybe the act of savagely cutting them down brings Felix some reprieve, even if it puts him at risk of being caught like this.

It's a hopeless situation. Dimitri should just be glad he's not the one getting sliced down. He stays where he is, because he's certain they'll both be struck with a curse the instant he tries to leave. Besides, he needs to stick around and nag. Some of the petals of the fluffy-but-wet peony scatter on his arms as he crosses them. ]

You didn't tell me you were ill.

[boarwitness]

I'm not.

[this is a very bold claim in the face of evidence otherwise. he throws one of the cuttings towards the bag, and misses, watching sullenly as it skitters off the counter and on to the floor.

instead of clippers or scissors or anything like that, he's taking offense to this particular patch of mistletoe with a kitchen knife, so progress is predictably slow.]

Why the kitchen, of all places...

[paraselenes]

[ It's his turn to look exasperated. He leans over to pick up the butchered mistletoe sprig and deposit it in the trash properly, sighing. ]

It's everywhere. And it only seems to grow back twice as fast once you cut it.

[ Which may or may not be a gentle suggestion to give his destruction a rest. ]

In any case, you're sick. You should be resting.

[boarwitness]

First—[he punctuates this with a hack at the plant.] I'm not sick.

Second—[another hack] as if you're one to talk about resting.

Third—[a last hack—another sprig drops free, but he catches it with his free hand.] cutting it down even for a short time is better than leaving it up.

[standing on the counter like this, he's taller than dimitri, so he's just glowering down, daring him to counter.]

[paraselenes]

[ Everything between them always manages to be an argument. He reaches out to take the mistletoe from him so he can throw that one away as well, though he doesn't look impressed. ]

Please consider your health before you're made so weak by flowers that you can't pick up a sword.

[ It's preposterous, but he does speak with genuine concern. Though they do have a more immediately pressing matter at hand. The sprites are still loitering about, because even with Felix's vandalism, the mistletoe counts. It always counts. ]

[boarwitness]

[he does at least let dimitri take the mistletoe, because there's personal and there's business—but then he goes back to the final sprig, cutting at it with a particular vengeance, like he's taking something out on it. the sprite at his feet is really yelling now.]

I'm not going to fall over just because of a few petals, boar. Don't try and apply advice you wouldn't take yourself to somebody else.

[the last sprig comes free, and he passes it over reflexively, since that's what they're doing, now.]

There. Even if it's just a day, it's better than nothing.

[people can come to the kitchen and make a sandwich now in peace...

there's a pause as felix clears his throat for a second—followed by a brief period of him concentrating on the middle distance—and then swallowing something. it's nothing, and if you saw that, no you didn't.

he puts the knife down on the counter, and starts to climb down.]

[paraselenes]

[ He watches Felix outright eat a flower rather than cough it up, at once worried by his hardheadedness and admiring it, before he takes the final mistletoe and leads it to its eternal resting place, the garbage. ]

You did do a thorough job.

[ He'll give him that much, moving aside so Felix can hop off the counter. ]

We can celebrate your victory by making some tea for your throat.

[ The sprite watches him to make sure he's not about to book it out of the kitchen, but Dimitri really does just busy himself with a kettle. ]

[boarwitness]

[at the praise, felix huffs a breath—but any neutral expression that generated is immediately soured again at the insistence of tea. before he can even say anything, dimitri is fussing with the makings of it. he slides down until he's just sitting on the counter.]

I told you, I--[halfway through he gives up, throwing his hands into the air with an exasperated grumble.]

Do what you want. But I'm not going to drink it.

[paraselenes]

[ Now Felix is just being difficult. Dimitri answers mildly as he starts to boil water, carefully working the fancy modern stove so he doesn't snap off the dial. ]

That'd be rather wasteful.

[ He's getting a cup anyway. The tea isn't really the point. ]

...Besides, it gives us a moment to discuss our options. [ He tilts his gaze towards the sprite. What are they going to do about this. ]

i am...... so sorry

[wrists]

[ laurent came to this soiree in mirth to attempt to gather information but mostly as a distraction from the cold — the fires here burn much hotter than what he can safely manage in his humble lodgings in the harbors, after all. he is no stranger to opulent parties dripping with needless extravagance. at least there is the absence of pets here. everyone has their clothes on, that he can see.

unfortunately, being as cold as he is, he is distracted from the dotting of mistletoe at nearly every height, and when he bumps into a familiar figure, he finds himself standing directly beneath one of the infernal blossoms. it is not just a harmless tradition here, and his gaze immediately turns glacial. ]

Of course we do not have to do anything. [ he levels his blue eyes at dimitri, frost clinging to his pale lashes. ] If you touch me, I will take you apart.

[ it's the first time he's seen the man since he saved his life in the mausoleum, and it's perhaps not the kindest way to begin this conversation. laurent still walks with a limp from the abysmal's attack, but it would have been much worse had dimitri not taken the beast out. ]

help

[paraselenes]

[ Ah, so Laurent's sparkling attitude wasn't thanks to the prison, but just how he acts in general. On the bright side, Dimitri is used to being greeted with this level of vitriol; his once-best friend was just as sharp-tongued, and from knowing each other well, much more personal in his barbs than Laurent is. So he accepts it with just the barest tilt of his head, almost charmed.

It's not everyday someone is mean to him. ]

Hello to you as well, Laurent.

[ He had meant it when he said they didn't have to do anything—he'll accept the sprite's prank, even as it leers at them. Dimitri ignores its attention, frowning instead at the way Laurent carries his weight. ]

...Are you still injured?

[wrists]

[ he stiffens at the question, as if it makes him uncomfortable that dimitri has noticed anything about his person. smoothly, he crosses his arms over his chest and shifts to lean back against the edge of the alcove the mistletoe hangs from. ]

If you want to undress me so badly, you have to take me to bed first. [ he gestures with a flick of his fingers to the dotting of red hanging every few feet around the room. ] How many people have you kissed here tonight? It's unbecoming of a prince to be so free with his tongue.

[ his eyes never leave dimitri's. ] You are royalty, are you not? You bear all the signs.

[paraselenes]

[ He huffs, and his gaze is the first to drop. ]

Your crassness has not improved any since last we met, I see. [ He says so flatly, though there's a note of hesitance in the way he delivers it, in the pause after where he skims the top of his molars with his tongue, as though seeking out words between the cracks. In the end, though he's not eager to share the truth, there's no reason to lie. ] ...I was a prince, once. Then a king. But here, I am a common man.

[ He doesn't like lording a status around that no longer matters or applies, though there's something sobering about the fact that he can be pegged so easily as royalty, even now.

But for how different they are, he'd seen the signs of the elite class in Laurent, too. Even back in the prison. He regards him curiously back. ]

Is that what you were before? A prince? [ Like recognizing like? ]

[wrists]

[ satisfaction, that he's right. then, curiosity. he regards dimitri with that icy stare, lounging against the wall as if he's watching something very interesting unfold. ]

Were you a good king? [ he levels the question like a weapon, though he looks innocent enough, his blue eyes crystalline, a flush of color across his cheeks from the cold. his hair gleams in the twinkling glow of the party. ] Do your people mourn your passing?

[ he's expecting the question, and yet he still tenses when he's faced with it, reluctant to offer information about himself, innocuous as it is. he shakes it off. ]

Yes. A prince. [ he does not bother going into the extensive politics surrounding that statement. ] But, like you, a common man here. However, that doesn't mean I'll fuck just anyone.

[paraselenes]

[ It's a direct question, subtly barbed. He doesn't turn away from it. ]

A good king...? [ The words lilt up into the faintest scoff, an aborted laugh. A good king. There's a toneless quality to his voice then, one that does not beggar pity, a simple statement of fact. ] No. I failed in all ways that matter.

[ Rather than elaborating, he coughs briefly, close-mouthed, biting back a few routine petals before he turns to accept flutes of some sort of drink from a server, handing one off to Laurent. It's enough for him to—mostly—bounce back to something more hospitable. ]

In any case, I've no interest in... warming your bedside. Maybe you could tell me of your nation instead. Were you set to inherit the throne?

[wrists]

[ it's such an outwardly pitiable answer that laurent does not think to sink his claws in right away. a king that admits to mistakes is not one that many kingdoms have ever experienced, at least not any that laurent has met. they would sooner begin a war than accept a personal failing. ]

What were your crimes? [ he accepts the drink a bit awkwardly, staring at the liquid as if it might be poison. a cursory glance around the room tells him that many people are enjoying the spirits, without any of them falling dead to the floor. some even look happy. for a moment laurent looks painfully young and unsure, as if being in this sort of situation is unfamiliar to him.

carefully, he takes the smallest of sips and answers honestly. ] Yes. I was to ascend to the throne at age twenty-one. But I'm here instead, so I suppose I'll never know what it is to be a king.

[paraselenes]

[ It's a loaded question and a loaded conversation for a lighthearted soiree. There are sprites and glittering mistletoe sprigs overhead, weightless post-dinner conversations around, and they'd talk about crimes of state instead.

But this suits him better, anyway. He's not one for parties, and has no reason—no right—to hide his mistakes. ]

...In my youth, there was a great tragedy that befell our Kingdom. I was never able to bring the culprits behind it to justice, or truly help their victims. I executed the very last of my family. I accepted war when it battered at our doors. [ He accepted it, fought in it, and failed to end it. What worse combination is there? Remembering the violence drains him, a weariness settling deep in the dark of his eyes before he closes them. ] But my failures were many—it would be easier to write you a missive.

[ He takes a stiff sip of his drink as an escape, practiced at this atmosphere but by no means comfortable. Despite Laurent's thorny, confident attitude before, he sees the same awkwardness in him, too. It's almost comforting to not be alone in it. Though it's curious—most young nobles were better than Dimitri at blending into festivities like this. ]

Waiting to come of age... [ Was that customary, or did his father die? ] Did you wish to be king? [ Dodging the crown isn't such a terrible fate, he thinks but refrains from saying. ]

[appeale]

[ when she'd seen Dimitri across the street, she'd bounded over to talk to him like an overeager golden retriever, and had only meant to walk with him for a little while. but she's regretting that now, because they hadn't gotten far before a sprite yanked Rudbeckia's hair and, pointedly, gestured above them at a lamppost.

Ruby's half-hearted fixing of her hair has become nervous fidgeting, and she tries to arrange her expression into a shy smile. she thinks it might come across a little strained. ]

... Have you been cursed many times, Dimitri?

[ because she already has. and it fucking blows. ]

[paraselenes]

[ Ruby is pleasant company, and this is far nicer than rotting away in a jail cell, worried about sickness and incarceration and violence. Even with the chill, it should, by all accounts, be a nice day.

Instead, it's mistletoe. He shuts his eyes, defeated. ]

...Here and again, yes.

[ Some were irritating. He spoke in black plumes of smoke earlier, and had a spare eyeball show up on his wrist that he had to cover with his glove. Others were—distressing.

He tries not to look too bothered though; guilting a young woman into kissing him is the last thing he wants. Slowly, ]

Has anyone told you how to... avoid the consequences? [ THIS IS SO AWKWARD ]

[appeale]

[ the flush that begins to colour Ruby's cheeks is genuine, which is only more mortifying to her. it's not like she puts any stock into fanciful, romantic ideals, even when her survival isn't on the line—but still. she's regrettably aware that if she goes through with this then it would, actually, be the first kiss she's ever had in twenty-three years of her combined lives. sorry nu i decided i'm making dimitri bear the burden of being the first one—

she doesn't care, not really. it's just embarrassing. ]

I-I do know. I've tried to get around it a few times, but it seems like there really isn't any other way...

[ bashful, she glances aside, and then peers up at Dimitri through her lashes. ] They're, um... very unpleasant. The curses.

[ Dimitri doesn't want to guilt her into this; she has no such compunctions. ]

[paraselenes]

[ HELP..

Oh saints, she's blushing. Unfortunately, being an idiot, he has no idea what to do with this situation. Years and years of courtly tutoring and the finest education the Kingdom had to offer has left him with absolutely no thoughts and no solutions. If ruling a nation depended on knowing when to smooch a pretty girl, Faerghus would be in flames.

At the very least, his emotions are always either tightly bottled or barely leashed, openly read; in this case, the tiny grimace of guilt is easy to see. Is it more gentlemanly to offer a kiss to assuage the lady of her woes, or to suffer chastity on her behalf? ]

...That they are.

[ His ears start to blaze pink, and it's nothing to do with the cold. ]

Um. [ UHHH ] Does that mean you've yet to kiss anyone, Rudbeckia?

[ This question is not actually making the situation better but he needs to say something. ]

[appeale]

[ oh god, he's blushing too. that's reassuring, since it means he isn't completely disinterested in her, but it doesn't make her any less embarrassed. and why would he ask something like that! knowing that she hasn't won't make this any easier!! ]

I haven't. [ she puts her hands to her warm cheeks, affecting the image of a shy maiden. ] I thought it would be improper, so I chose to accept the curse each time, but...

[ with Iske, she was always quite aggressive in her pursuit, knowing that at worst he'd (harm her) reject her, rather than retreat into himself. it's a level she's lowered herself to before, so she wouldn't shy from doing so now, only— Iske already hated her. she isn't sure whether the same approach would be to her benefit here. is Dimitri more delicate than he appears? would he begin to hate her for being too forward? but then, if she doesn't take the initiative, is he actually going to do anything?

she's really... someone who shouldn't be near good and kind people, isn't she. ]

... I really don't want to get cursed again.

[ Calm down, Ruby. Let's just see where this goes. ]

[paraselenes]

[ Knowing does not make it easier! In fact, it might make it more difficult!! He feels the additional Guilt of knowing that making out with a cold slab of granite might be more appealing than smooching with him for the first time, and yet here they are. It's a shame. There's probably a hundred thousand men out there that could give her a more romantic moment than this, something better befitting the fair maiden that Rudbeckia is.

This place can be so unfair. He shifts in place to gaze up at the mistletoe with a sigh, defeated. ]

No, me neither.

[ Conceptually, kissing is much easier than suffering a curse. But it's still strangely difficult to commit to the decision. He forces his line of sight back down, sheepish caution writ all across his expression. King of Lions, indeed. ]

Would you... rather try the alternative? I could— [ seiros smite him ] I don't want to pressure you.

[ Ruby is good at cloaking her true self, but he isn't. His sincerity is painfully clear. ]