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.]
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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.]
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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.]