Month: October 2013

Zeke was feeling a touch sour. Not that it was particularly easy to tell when he was feeling anything other than a varying degree of sour, mind you. The trip from the half-Lician’s home in the Third Realm to the school in which he’d be residing for the year had been long and bumpy and lonely—save for the company of the churning butterflies in his stomach. The Constantine was a proud boy, as was his father before him and his father before him, so naturally he’d be hard pressed to do anything other than ignore his nerves. Still, they persisted to an annoying degree—though this was perhaps to be expected. It was, after all, the first time that he had traveled to Licia. Alone no less.

His mother’s open weeping over ‘her baby growing up’ had been enough to fill him with dread (and embarrassment) without the events that followed. It wasn’t as if Zeke didn’t know what to do—sure, he didn’t have any firsthand experience, but he had undergone his father’s own special brand of etiquette training in preparation for this very moment. Not that Zeke knew much of his father’s intentions. That would imply that his old man actually spoke to him any more than necessary (or barked at him, more accurately). He just knew what he was supposed to do—namely: attend the Licia School, follow his written instructions as they were provided via letter, and avoid being an embarrassment.

Zeke was allowed to enjoy himself during the coming year, but doing anything to even remotely tarnish the family name would not be tolerated.

It was nearly dark by the time his carriage finally pulled up to the gates of the school, and the opening ceremonies had already commenced. Already late and not getting much later, Zeke took his time changing in one of the excessively ornate restrooms he found, until he could definitely be mistaken for a proper Lician—fully adorned in rich creams and golds. Or well, could have if it hadn’t been for the hair that resembled fresh pine needles and the teeth as sharp and menacing as a shark’s (though to be fair the teeth were much less conspicuous except for when he smiled, which was rare enough).

Nobody seemed to notice him slink into the ballroom late, too busy watching something-or-another along the dance floor that he couldn’t see through the thicket of attendees ( and frankly what need did Zeke have to concern himself with dancing? It wasn’t as if he intended to do anything more than skulk around, himself). Nobody cared about the glasses-wearing young man creeping awkwardly along the walls. Nobody even bothered to turn a wary eye his way when he found his way outside, into the crisp night air of the surrounding forestry.

But once he had, he relaxed, breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he shouldn’t be avoiding the ball. His father would be livid if he knew…but Zeke didn’t care. At least the trees wouldn’t judge him. Zeke couldn’t help but laugh to himself, under his breath, though it was a sound easily masked by the crunching of leaves beneath his feet. My green-haired kinsmen.

The cold air flushes his cheeks and his nose lightly as he walks. Zeke puts his hands in his pockets, glad at least that the thick material of his jacket keeps him warm against the rapidly descending chill. Nothing unbearable, but it would’ve certainly been much more irritating if he had been wearing casual clothes.

Eventually, he stumbled across a clearing with a dark lake. “Huh,” he huffed.

For a good few minutes Zeke contented himself with staring out at the calm body of water. But then with a sigh, he leaned back to rest against the thick trunk of a tree, not caring of he got anything on his back, though it would be obvious to see against the light shades. It was almost immediately after that he noticed the body of the girl on the ground in his peripheral vision.

Besides being incredibly pretty, she looked more miserable than he did. That, if nothing else, inspired the normally broody young man to speak up. He managed a grin, however painfully out-of-place it looked on the somewhat-severe curves of his face. “Not really your scene in there either?”

The prospect of Duncan Deamone traipsing through the forest to put an end to her was as amusing as it was unlikely. However, when the branches parted and the figure revealed itself to the dim light of the moon it was not her uncle – but the same boy she’d sparred with from behind the safety of her cumbersome armor earlier in the morning. In spite of her embarrassment at being caught in such a position, she opted to wait and observe him as he took in the deceptively (if dark) innocuous looking lake. When he addressed her, she was sure – he didn’t recognize her, or perhaps couldn’t see her, though she’d have thought the gown would have been a dead give-away. Decorum demanded she make herself known, but having avoided doing so once already Alarice didn’t see the harm in continuing this little moment of informality for as long as she could. Anything to get her mind off the sweet words she’d had to shove out of her mouth for the benefit of her Uncle, his son and the general population of the school.

“Like much of life in Licia, they are frightfully complex and cumbersome, if – apparently – necessary evils…balls, that is.” Truly, she would have liked to have been able to slip into the easygoing banter of her youth. But just thinking back to those days was difficult and the finer intricacies of casual conversation were all but lost in the Lician court. Still, the Princess hoped her messy state might ease any of the tension her formality might create. “Given that the only alternatives I can think of would be a very awkward meal at a rather large and tense table or some rambunctious night on the town with a few hundred of our sure-to-be closest friends, I think I like this best. It’s much easier to sneak away from.” Then, in a passingly casual if thoroughly serious warning. “I would not recommend approaching that lake. They say a monster lives inside that can devour a man whole. And i’m afraid that for once ‘they’ may be saying something worth listening to.” Her blatant dislike of “them”, rule makers and starch shirt stiffnecks made clear, Alarice remembered herself and had the grace to blush for it. “Forgive me. I speak quite out of turn.”

Zeke grinned at the response, slowly at first—but then more widely, showing that crooked, sharp set of teeth so strangely characteristic of his family. Her voice sounded familiar somehow, though for the life of him he couldn’t quite place it. Maybe if it hadn’t been so dark and his head hadn’t still been spinning so much from his discomfort at the ball (or all of Licia to be fair), he would have been able to figure out where or how he had heard it before. But he didn’t recognize those soft, girlish features or the long mass of hair that encased her.  

“I am starting to notice a bit of a trend,” he admitted. Sure, he hadn’t been in the country for much more than a day. If her mix of formality and casual banter was found to be at all awkward by Zeke, he didn’t seem to notice. But, then, one awkward individual was hard pressed to notice similar traits in another.  “You’re right though. After all—here we are.”

At the words she provided next, he nodded. “I’m not much of a swimmer, anyway.” Then, his brow furrowed at her apology. Zeke provided a shrug in return. “Nah. I think out of the two of us, I’m clearly the one out-of-practice in terms of formality.” But, hey, maybe he’d get better with some practice, some patience, and a bit more time out of the Third Realm. Only time would really tell. And perhaps a kick in the pants.

With invitation, Zeke came closer and took a seat, plopping down with a wince of regret at his lack of care—the bruise on his abdomen as raw as it had been since it had been given to him earlier in the day, if a bit more purple. “Besides, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t appreciate the sentiment.” Zeke loosened the top button of his jacket to give his neck a bit more give, and toyed with the unnecessary decoration on the edge of his sleeve.

It was easier to recognize him now that he sat next to her, the stark color of his hair noticeable even in the dark of the lush forest that surrounded them. Time and a lack of practice had dulled her senses in many ways, but Alarice still noted (with a touch of guilt) the spasm that accompanied his movements. His demeanor was so unlike his in the Kendo room that she’d hesitated to believe it was the same person. But “Zeke Constantine”, his name at least, had been known to her for far longer than the hours that had passed since their initial encounter.

“I would say you are doing perfectly well, Mr. Constantine, given the circumstances. But then I’m sure there is some obscure protocol in the Lician books for encounters in dark forests after …what would they call it? Excusing oneself impromptly from a ball?” Alarice assured, either coy or playful – she was not sure. Nor was she sure why or how her sudden exclusion of herself from the term “they” – Licians – happened so naturally. Perhaps because he made her think of another strangely-locked youth, with a sword in hand and an easy disposition. “You are not accustomed to court wear? I’ll have you know you’re dressed quite casually. One would usually be required to wear cufflinks…”  Easy, practiced, she reached over and folded the doubtlessly itchy ends of the embroidered sleeve over and up to his elbows. Her gown shifted as she did, releasing the scent of roses into the air. A leaf dislodged itself from her traditionally long hair and settled on the sateen softness of the skirts. “Then again – I am not precisely a measure of proper dress myself at the moment, but I shall overlook your indiscretion if you shall overlook mine.”

“I…” was all Zeke managed to choke out when the young woman beside him called him by his name. He blinked, flustered, and could feel his face color a festive contrast to the hair that framed it as he lost the ability to form a coherent response to the rest of the things she had said afterward. “Oh.”

He looked at his sleeves as she fixed them and felt even more embarrassed than before. Those butterflies were back in his stomach, tickling it to numbness and making him nauseated. Zeke was so bad at talking to girls; he wasn’t sure why he had even tried. How big of an ass was he making himself, he wondered?  It wasn’t as if he could just ask her if they had met before—especially when, if they had, it would’ve been in the last few hours—without coming off as rude or at the very least lacking in memory retention. With a deep breath, Zeke clears his throat and makes another attempt at sounding human.

“Yeah, I haven’t totally broken in my closet, yet.” His eyes travel up her gloved arms until they’re tracing the curve of her shoulders and picking out the leaves in (and out of) her hair. He cracks another smile—and it makes him feel a touch less tense. “That sounds reasonable–besides, I think you pull off the green look well. And we match, this way.”

Zeke Constantine, for being a favored name on her list of potential husbands had surprisingly little biographical information for Herbert to gorge himself on. He’d given Alarice a thorough report on all the ones who possessed meatier profiles but for the green haired, third-realmer there was little more than mystery. But what a mystery it was. That anyone from the third realm at all should have been considered by someone as King Orion was enough to draw her attention. Their impromptu meeting aside, she didn’t have much to go on yet but it was still just the first day.

“You would be wise to pretend your current garb is beneath, not above you. I’m afraid Licia is…very critical of its nobles. There are hardly any who escape its discerning eye….” The advice, gently spoken and well-intentioned gave away a little more than the brunette royal wanted it to. Then again, most things did these days. “…It makes it so hard to breathe…” She whispered in a moment of unusually open melancholy, referring less to the slim fitting gown and more to the abounding pressure of her blossoming responsibilities. His small joke was far away enough from the feeling that it made her laugh; the sound rousing nightflying birds and sending more leaves tumbling down around them. “The tree and the flower?” She suggested with a small smile, her hands reaching up to remove the offending foliage from his similarly tinted hair. “Growing beside a lake while the rest of the world spins on in there? It does sound lovely, doesn’t it?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Alarice allowed herself the lazy comfort of the earth – rolling herself downwards until her exposed back was flat against the mossy ground. Trees refused to grow near the perimeter of the lake, leaving a window through their canopy where one might stare at the twinkling stars above. “Do you miss the third realm?” She asked, longing for word of some place other than where she had spent her life for the last decade-and-more.

Zeke had noticed that, as well. But it seemed wrong to say something so harsh, even when the young woman beside him was doing much the same (if more tastefully). Not that he had any reason to expect any less from the country. Maybe he was only one day into his stay in Licia, but his father had made sure to prepare him for how merciless the citizens could be—particularly toward anyone different like him, a half-breed with a less-than-favorable family reputation.

He hadn’t known her very long, didn’t even know her name, but understood her words completely. It was suffocating: the constant scrutiny, the expectations, and the inevitable disappointment in one’s peers. Zeke could have remarked upon it, but her laugh was a reprieve more than just a little appreciated. Still, something about the mental image saddened him. It really was lovely: the idea of a young, strong tree growing beside and providing shelter for a delicate flower.

But the tree would live and live and live long after the flower, his one faithful companion, had withered. And then he’d be all alone, until he rotted away slowly from the inside. Even then, he’d still be standing—empty, a shadow of himself, nobody to notice he was gone. It made Zeke think of his Grandfather.

“Lovely,” he agreed, though more quietly, under his breath, “if not a little lonely.”

Zeke curled his knees up to his chin and watched as she fell to the ground and stared up into the clear, twinkling sky above them. He looked, too, rolling his eyes upward. Miles upon miles away, his family was under the same sky. “Sort of,” he admitted in response. “I’ve always wanted to come here but now that I finally am…I guess it kind of puts things in perspective.”

“Well, Mr. Constantine…” Alarice smiled, “You’re quite poetic.” Then again, the sword was its own kind of poetry – though it was a rare thing to find someone gifted in both. And while it was evident that the green-haired third realmer did not recognize her, she found something of herself in him and that was comforting. If she had been accused of it, the brunette would have denied it, but now he had to wonder if her motives for pushing Licia School to accept third realm students hadn’t been at least a little bit self serving. From whom else could she hope to hear news of home? Her heart ached at the thought: after all these years…Licia still wasn’t her home, would likely never feel like it was. Was that the fate slated for the boy beside her?

“Life often does that. But, given your skill with the sword I have no doubt you will find some way to maneuver the uncertainty you must be feeling.” She’d been coy long enough, felt guilty for it too. His face was as familiar to her as her own; was among the many others that had been drilled into her head, some in childhood and some only days before. All in the name of making her seem the cultivated Lician-raised lady she was supposed to be. But she wasn’t that. As the crown drew nearer Alarice feared it never would be. It was time he knew who she was.

“Mr. Constantine I have something to confess,” The royal sighed, searching out his eyes in the darkness.  “I…”

“Alarice!” Irritated, his eyes in narrow slits as they stared down at her, Herbert gave her away before she could do it of herself. “Princess.” He amended, realizing she wasn’t alone and ducking in a semblance of a bow to keep up appearances. “Your absence has been noted. It’s best you come before the rest of your guard starts leading a search through this charming forest.” He held out his hand with an expectant look – not even sparing Zeke the courtesy of a nod. But she owed him better than that. “Of course, Herbert. But do please allow me to say goodbye to Mr. Constantine, his company was…thoroughly enjoyable.” A dozen changes came over her, the slight raise of her chin, the neat clasp of her hands, the gentler timbre of her voice not least among them. Alarice was Princess Alarice once more, the girl he’d stumbled into in the forest disappeared into the dark. “I meant to ask before I left, how is your stomach? I trust our spar did not result in any lasting injury?”