[Sometimes you have had a busy week of having way too many questions, way too many scared people, a big trauma and a lot of people sticking their hand in your chest. It's time to go mess with the piano.
He's on his way in when he spots the "student" of his marching right through with some sort of instrument cradled in their arms. Huh.]
Lilia. [It's called out before he shuts himself away, crossing the distance.] Strange, I didn't know you played music. What have you got there?
[Shoulders relaxing, he starts to pluck away quietly at the piano. Phrases of a piece he already knows, mostly to test if the poor thing's still in tune.]
Mine's accounted for, yes. Peridot is not a very... close-knit sort of group. Definitely not the sort to join hands and cooperate. But I've been trying to keep my eye out for the more timid of our troupe regardless to make sure they are not being forgotten.
Pinocchio's very friendly and curious, but perhaps a little on the timid side. He looks up to a couple of the men in the dorm.
Noelle... she has the bite within her to say exactly what she needs to, but lacks the confidence or comfort to do so in ways that empower her. Plus, I get the feeling that home is not a place she wants to return to, other than for the fact that it is not "here".
[He stumbles on a more complicated phrase in the upper register of the keys, pausing for a moment to try again at a slower pace. Really, he was lucky things like this stayed clear enough for some sort of recall these days.]
Fandaniel's always a bit of an enigma, but he'll play along with our little games. Don Quixote was understandably fretful when we gathered that first night, but she did her best to smooth things over and seems eager to participate in any group activities. And Aerith seems to be the forgiving type... up to a point. For her, painting each others' nails and playing with each others' hair is a way to reestablish peace among us.
It's a fun little group.
[Aha! He's learned enough notes to play out a simple melody of his own.]
You make it sound so pleasant, but the prince could be a real terror all on his own, you realize. Even as a child, he could freeze the entire castle when he was in the middle of a tantrum.
[It twists his gut in a way that feels wrong, with a feeling he hasn't had a name for in a long time. The Fountain took that from him, in such large strokes. To see so much that nothing would truly faze him, that nothing would break him to pieces.
A flicker of fear didn't belong here. Truly.
He forces it down with an exhale.]
Mm? Once or twice, yes. Though I don't seem to recall ever telling you about that.
His mind is moving in multiple directions at once, and that fear swells again. He smiles, but it's different.]
Then I recommend you stay alive.
[It's a weak comeback. His fingers start finding the keys, but it's less forceful. There is a pull here, unpleasant, like a corpse bobbing to the surface and disrupting the plain of emotion. Making him feel like there's not just a fairy here, nothing noble, nothing safe. It's a tiger set to pounce.]
Your kind has already stolen enough from me. See to it that you don't follow in their footsteps.
[His fingers slide across the strings in a motion that would be more befitting of a different stringed instrument entirely - but he keeps them firm on the strings nevertheless, keeping them still, keeping them silent.]
...What did take her, in the end? You already know, don't you?
[He has so little to shape what's missing from himself. A sense of purpose. A time locked up. He can't narrow it down enough. He can't give Lilia any more.]
So negotiations have failed, hmm? ...Some things never change.
[That much, he remembers, even now. Raverne, who cared for humans, enough to learn their language and teach a lowly servant like Lilia. Raverne, who decided their first act would not be a declaration of war, but of diplomacy, heading out to meet with the very humans who threatened their home.
Raverne, who would never return, never nurture his child to hatching, never be known...]
[Abruptly, he stands to leave, the zither abandoned in his place. It will sort itself out once he's gone; there's no need to waste any particular care on it.]
[The trial comes to an explosive end, and the Troupe is left to scatter. Lilia doesn't waste much time making his retreat, heading along towards the dorms.
His pace is stuttered and breathing tense, and even as covered as he is it's hard to miss that his lip is split and that multiple parts of his face and neck are starting to blossom with bruising.
He doesn't even notice Lilia at first as he drops from the stairwells into the hall for the grand theatre, a tired attempt to try and take a look over the seats and stage. Looking, observing, and not really finding anyone of note, before turning himself around and--
--oh.]
...Lilia?
Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come up. Was something the matter?
[He'll pick up the pace, and because the trial did not involve all that much physical exertion on his part, he's able to come along quite quickly to examine Solomon from close up.]
Oh, this...? [His laugh is weak.] An unfortunate disagreement, that's all. Ah, though I guess it's... probably starting to look a little colorful right now, isn't it?
[He raises one of his hands to his left temple where the color is already the most vibrant, immediately wincing at the touch.]
Besides the neck wounds: his lower lip is split, and there's bruising from multiple angles along his jaw, temple, nose and the underside of his face. Whatever blood there was has long since dried and been wiped off.]
Temper, please...
If you really were so insistent, you could have just asked.
[No he is not trying to divert this so he can go by himself later what are you talking about]
As long as you keep moving, there won't be any need to.
[Because naturally he's following closely behind all the while.]
For someone so insistent I survive, you don't seem to be interested in taking care of yourself. Should I take that to mean you have no intention of safeguarding my memory?
Neither. [His tone is starting to fall cold, even as he keeps leading them down the stairs. Oh how he wants to run, he wants to run, he wants to run, he HATES that he wants to run...]
They didn't tell me why they attacked me, is what I mean.
Called me all sorts of things, yes. Insisted I was playing dumb. But they'd made up their mind on exactly what they wanted of me, so nothing I said would have mattered.
...
It's hardly the first time I've had stones thrown. I'll survive.
[Can you feel his gaze burning into your back, Solomon? Can you?]
You could've fooled me. If someone dislikes you enough to leave you in such a state, I can't help but be concerned once the need for murder is on the table once more.
Lilia is going to aim a kick at his back - just enough to throw the man off balance. If he can't manage to keep it, he'll scruff Solomon so he doesn't actually fall, but we're just checking reaction speed right now.]
[In the stairwell as they are, he chokes out a breath and stumbles a step or two, but is able to right himself, his hand immediately tucked into his jacket.]
He wants nothing to do with me. You may leave it at that, if it helps. [His tone's still rather tense, but at least talking about Fandaniel is, oddly, keeping him from wanting to run away quite so fast.
The Infirmary is only a short ways down at their current pace, at least.]
But... I suppose I did hit him with a prop from the theatre. And only after he went and impolitely ripped something straight out of my chest. So maybe it was deserved?
Fine. Fine. He'll. Sit down. He's so incredibly tense and it's making him that much more frustrated talking about this---]
He escalated before I even had a chance by tearing the rose from my chest, so I thanked him with a hit to the legs, and back and forth we went until he left me stunned on the ground in the costume room.
Thankfully, it all looks contained to his face and neck, though from the coloring of the skin at his mouth it definitely looks like he was spitting out blood at some point. No evidence of fracture, just a lot of blunt trauma and swelling.
The injuries on his neck are very clearly a strangulation attempt.]
I figured you might be. Even in my world, fae have outlived most everything on record. The Devildom where demons reside only exists because of war for territory with the Fae King.
What lands that were governed by the Fae King were all taken over by demon kind within one fell swoop. They live within the outskirts of both the Devildom and humanity now, separate and cooperative in places but no longer a nation of their own. More... areas, that they've overtaken for home and safety, that the only let the worthy enter.
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WEEK ONE - THURSDAY
He's on his way in when he spots the "student" of his marching right through with some sort of instrument cradled in their arms. Huh.]
Lilia. [It's called out before he shuts himself away, crossing the distance.] Strange, I didn't know you played music. What have you got there?
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[Turning with a - that's a zither. He has no idea it's a zither but that's what it is.]
I'm not quite sure myself. It reminds me a little of some instruments I saw in the east, though.
[He's having a good time.]
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Ah, I've seen ones similar to these before, but I can't seem to remember what they're called... Interesting.
I was on my way over to the grand piano room, if you wanted some company.
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[But he doesn't seem opposed to following!]
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[Here, he'll hold that practice room door open just for you!]
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Have you spoken with Tsukasa at all? He's quite talented at it.
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Is he? We've met, but it was more for an arts and crafts project, not anything musical.
He did seem rather interested in theater, though. Passionately, even.
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According to him, his mother teaches it. He even showed off a little for me.
[He'll find a seat to begin plucking away experimentally at the zither.]
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[He moves over to the piano to adjust the seat and lift the cover for the keys, though he does pause in thought.]
...
You know, while we are here... Lilia, have you had someone to do your rose task with yet?
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What of you?
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[Shoulders relaxing, he starts to pluck away quietly at the piano. Phrases of a piece he already knows, mostly to test if the poor thing's still in tune.]
Mine's accounted for, yes. Peridot is not a very... close-knit sort of group. Definitely not the sort to join hands and cooperate. But I've been trying to keep my eye out for the more timid of our troupe regardless to make sure they are not being forgotten.
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[Plink plink plink, slowly but surely he's figuring out the notes.]
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Many of ours are very withdrawn in talking to one another openly, even the outgoing. It really does make it very hard to get to know them better.
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Noelle... she has the bite within her to say exactly what she needs to, but lacks the confidence or comfort to do so in ways that empower her. Plus, I get the feeling that home is not a place she wants to return to, other than for the fact that it is not "here".
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[oooooooh, now he's curious!]
Her home did sound rather miserable. I can't really blame the girl.
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[He stumbles on a more complicated phrase in the upper register of the keys, pausing for a moment to try again at a slower pace. Really, he was lucky things like this stayed clear enough for some sort of recall these days.]
What about Moonstone?
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It's a fun little group.
[Aha! He's learned enough notes to play out a simple melody of his own.]
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[Aerith and Don don't surprise him, given what little bits he's learned from them both.
Solomon will halt his own practice when he hears a melody start to emerge, letting himself listen.]
...That sounds like a lullaby, doesn't it?
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[Kheeheehee!]
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I'll take it some little child out there was soothed at some point or another hearing it in your voice?
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[Others may beg to differ, though.]
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What was it like, anyway? When you first got to meet him?
A life like that in your hands must be precious.
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Powerful magics in the hand of a child can be... unpredictable, I'm sure.
Were his parents of any help?
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Because your queen was absent?
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Oh, dear. Was I that obvious?
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[A target paused like a deer in the headlights means he can aim again. Just to be sure.]
How did the prince survive, if his mother did not?
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There's another one of those pensive little frowns, before he returns to lightly strumming the zither before him.]
The war was not kind to my homeland. Both the king and queen were among the casualties.
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[He leans his chin against his elbow at the edge of the piano's keyboard.]
Are you avoiding my question, Lilia?
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You know... it's the strangest thing.
I can't seem to remember. But I suppose that means you must have been the one locked away, once upon a time?
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A flicker of fear didn't belong here. Truly.
He forces it down with an exhale.]
Mm? Once or twice, yes. Though I don't seem to recall ever telling you about that.
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[He says, without an ounce of surprise.]
I'd say it's fair to assume we each have something of the other's. Does that sound right to you?
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His mind is moving in multiple directions at once, and that fear swells again. He smiles, but it's different.]
Then I recommend you stay alive.
[It's a weak comeback. His fingers start finding the keys, but it's less forceful. There is a pull here, unpleasant, like a corpse bobbing to the surface and disrupting the plain of emotion. Making him feel like there's not just a fairy here, nothing noble, nothing safe. It's a tiger set to pounce.]
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Your kind has already stolen enough from me. See to it that you don't follow in their footsteps.
[His fingers slide across the strings in a motion that would be more befitting of a different stringed instrument entirely - but he keeps them firm on the strings nevertheless, keeping them still, keeping them silent.]
...What did take her, in the end? You already know, don't you?
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[Crueler than he intends, behind its softness.]
And I'm not about to owe you any favors.
[He has so little to shape what's missing from himself. A sense of purpose. A time locked up. He can't narrow it down enough. He can't give Lilia any more.]
1/2
So negotiations have failed, hmm? ...Some things never change.
[That much, he remembers, even now. Raverne, who cared for humans, enough to learn their language and teach a lowly servant like Lilia. Raverne, who decided their first act would not be a declaration of war, but of diplomacy, heading out to meet with the very humans who threatened their home.
Raverne, who would never return, never nurture his child to hatching, never be known...]
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Then I suppose there's nothing else to be said.
[Abruptly, he stands to leave, the zither abandoned in his place. It will sort itself out once he's gone; there's no need to waste any particular care on it.]
WEEK ONE FRIDAY POST-TRIAL
And who should he meet along the way but...?]
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His pace is stuttered and breathing tense, and even as covered as he is it's hard to miss that his lip is split and that multiple parts of his face and neck are starting to blossom with bruising.
He doesn't even notice Lilia at first as he drops from the stairwells into the hall for the grand theatre, a tired attempt to try and take a look over the seats and stage. Looking, observing, and not really finding anyone of note, before turning himself around and--
--oh.]
...Lilia?
Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come up. Was something the matter?
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I'll say. What in the world happened to you?
[He'll pick up the pace, and because the trial did not involve all that much physical exertion on his part, he's able to come along quite quickly to examine Solomon from close up.]
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[He raises one of his hands to his left temple where the color is already the most vibrant, immediately wincing at the touch.]
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[Just throwing that guess out there as he examines the wounds.]
You're a mess. Let's at least find you someplace to rest.
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[He'll lean down to let them fuss, but he doesn't look like he's about to be led.]
Will you force me, if I say no?
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[He'll reach to grab Solomon by the collar, dragging him down further with a firm, surprisingly strong grip.]
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With Solomon's collar pulled into his fist, it's easier to see the long stretches of purple on his neck right at his throat.
His hands immediately go up in fake surrender.]
Wh-whoa, whoa -- ggh -- please, Lilia, do you have to be so forceful? O-ow...
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Then don't test me.
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Besides the neck wounds: his lower lip is split, and there's bruising from multiple angles along his jaw, temple, nose and the underside of his face. Whatever blood there was has long since dried and been wiped off.]
Temper, please...
If you really were so insistent, you could have just asked.
[No he is not trying to divert this so he can go by himself later what are you talking about]
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[But hey, maybe Solomon would find it fun to get physically dragged around by a 5'2" man.]
ok now that we have completed that other pc: hello
[Oddly clipped.
Maybe he can find a direction to get past him. Or to run. Would he need to run? CAN he run right now? Hm. It's tempting.]
why hello there :3c
Then go on.
Walk.
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But he turns, instead, back to the stairwell. Hands still up in mock surrender, though the gesture grows weaker the longer he holds it.]
Don't get any ideas.
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[Because naturally he's following closely behind all the while.]
For someone so insistent I survive, you don't seem to be interested in taking care of yourself. Should I take that to mean you have no intention of safeguarding my memory?
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Don't make such assumptions.
It's not as though I intended for this to happen.
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I wouldn't be able to tell you what it was about even if I tried, so do not ask.
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I can't tell you something I don't know.
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What do you mean?
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Called me all sorts of things, yes. Insisted I was playing dumb. But they'd made up their mind on exactly what they wanted of me, so nothing I said would have mattered.
...
It's hardly the first time I've had stones thrown. I'll survive.
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That's all?
[He almost feels let down...]
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[Let him wallow a little, very very far away from Lilia.]
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I'm not some fragile thing to be protected.
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You could've fooled me. If someone dislikes you enough to leave you in such a state, I can't help but be concerned once the need for murder is on the table once more.
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I can defend myself.
[So why didn't he? Great question.]
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Lilia is going to aim a kick at his back - just enough to throw the man off balance. If he can't manage to keep it, he'll scruff Solomon so he doesn't actually fall, but we're just checking reaction speed right now.]
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Don't. [Sharper.]
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If you're able to protect yourself, then why didn't you?
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Here I thought you wanted me to rest.
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You didn't answer my question.
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[He's quite confident in his own abilities, magic or no.]
But is that why your other assailant was able to reduce you to this state?
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Can we please move on from this?
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[(Derogatory, if that weren't already clear.)]
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[wrong response solomon
He's just
going to start going down the stairs a little
faster than before.
Maybe he just doesn't want to risk another attempt at breaking his neck. He has places to be. They. They have places. Ugh.]
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Oh? And why is that?
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[Yes, they weren't in complete opposition, but still. He's too distracted to pretend that he and Fandaniel are getting along in the slightest.]
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Just the one. For that matter, at least, he was telling the truth.
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Thank goodness. How awkward that would be.
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The Infirmary is only a short ways down at their current pace, at least.]
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[A beat, and he hums in thought over it.]
But... I suppose I did hit him with a prop from the theatre. And only after he went and impolitely ripped something straight out of my chest. So maybe it was deserved?
Mm. Really, it was all a very big mess.
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I'd only meant to annoy him a little, but he really took it too far.
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[Hello infirmary. He's going to go yank out one of the lower beds (thankfully devoid of any Extras) and gesture at Solomon to sit.]
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Just, ah... a bonk against the head or something of the sort. I thought the element of surprise would make it more genuine.
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Is that really all?
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[thE STARING IS WORSE WHY IS HE FEELING LIKE THIS
Fine. Fine. He'll. Sit down. He's so incredibly tense and it's making him that much more frustrated talking about this---]
He escalated before I even had a chance by tearing the rose from my chest, so I thanked him with a hit to the legs, and back and forth we went until he left me stunned on the ground in the costume room.
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[But he'll go retrieve some first aid supplies and carry them over to Solomon.]
Now, let's see your wounds.
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Thankfully, it all looks contained to his face and neck, though from the coloring of the skin at his mouth it definitely looks like he was spitting out blood at some point. No evidence of fracture, just a lot of blunt trauma and swelling.
The injuries on his neck are very clearly a strangulation attempt.]
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You were strangled?
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Yes. Enough that I blacked out, at least, but I don't believe it was for very long.
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H-hey, what else do you even expect me to say?
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Something a little closer to the truth, at the very least.
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It was the truth -- [ow his face] It hurts, yes, but at least I'm alive?
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[But he'll finish up administering first aid gently enough.]
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[Moving to return the excess supplies.]
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[Testing his jaw a bit - ow, oogh.]
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[Now that actually seems to catch him by surprise.]
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[which is about how old he looks, so yknow]
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[Clearly.]
...For about how long?
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[It's more irritated than anything. He doesn't want to be here anymore, leg bouncing in his seat.]
I lost track a while ago. It's not like the fae. Memory starts getting fuzzy for people after you hit two hundred.
I'm at least in my fifth millenia by now, but I don't know if I could get it exact anymore.
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[And some slower than others.]
And here I thought I was the most senior in age...
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What lands that were governed by the Fae King were all taken over by demon kind within one fell swoop. They live within the outskirts of both the Devildom and humanity now, separate and cooperative in places but no longer a nation of their own. More... areas, that they've overtaken for home and safety, that the only let the worthy enter.
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[There's a quiet click as he puts away the last of the supplies.]
I see.
[Is that the fate of fae in all worlds, he wonders...?]
I trust you can make it back to your dorm in once piece?
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Yes. Thank you.
[Clipped, not quite making eye contact. Just let him run.]