[table]
| [align=center] [color=transparent]<3
[color=transparent]claire loves u!
[align=center][size=9pt]CASSIUS H.
HERE I AM, JUST ANOTHER BOY SINGING SONGS THAT OTHERS HAVE SUNG ･✧ |
Three months. It’s been three months, and Cass still can’t believe he gets to call Sanome his wife, especially outside the confines of his lines notebook from when he was twelve. Can’t believe that he can look at her orange hair and play with it, place a kiss on her forehead while he’s at it if he wishes to do so. Something about it is a little too fantastical for him; just the fact that his dream girl had ever even agreed to marry him is baffling. Really, what is in it for her? She gets a husband? Yeah, but Cass is a little lame, he has to admit it. He’s not complaining that she ever said yes, he’s just still a little confused.
The only thing about married life: now the pair of them have to go to every stupid Silver family function together, flaunting their new romance and pretending to enjoy the company of the other fancy Silvers who adorn themselves in silks and jewels that were woven and embedded at the cost of Reds’ lives in the slums. Red. The word has started to take a new meaning to it ever since Cass found out his father had been a Red with powers, not the Silver Haven lord that he had thought was his father his entire life. Not that he only cares about Reds now that he’s connected to them, but his father died because of a blood war, and the thought makes him feel a little sick in the stomach. Sanome knows he’s been reeling a little ever since he found out, but what he’s about to ask her is something he doesn’t know if even she will see coming.
They’re in their bedroom chambers now, and he’s taking off his tight dress shirt and unbuckling the belt on his pants. Cass pulls on a pair of shorts he uses for the training exercises his mother still makes him do, and turns around to look at Sanome, the dress she had worn to the event they had just returned from still falling elegantly from her frame. Already done changing (he doesn’t have any jewelry or makeup to remove), Cass makes his way to the other side of the room where she is, placing a kiss gently on her lips and intertwining their hands when he pulls away. The logical side of his brain tells him to stop being annoying and clingy, but the more overpowering side tells him that every likes a kiss now and then, anyways. He smiles a little at his wife, looking at the dress again. “You really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he says, giving her hand a squeeze as he moves again, laying down on his side of the bed (he refuses to sleep anywhere but the right side) and getting under the covers as he lets her change, waiting for her to join him.
Cass lets a few minutes pass by in silence, and he had been planning on asking her while they laid in bed, talking about the day as he liked to do every night, but his impatience gets the best of him after all. “Sanome?” he asks, his voice a litrlw uncharacteristically tentative as he tests the waters. The question he wants to ask is definitely weird, coming from a Silver and spoken to another Silver, and he doesn’t know how to ease into it. How does one simply ask their spouse if thwy would like to run away and join a rebellion to dismantle the monarchy that they’ve been raised on their whole life? He can’t say he’s found any advice books on something like that, and the nervousness seeps into his voice as he gets up a bit, leaning back on his elbows and looking over at his wife.
”What do you... think about the Scarlet Guard? Like, what they do, you know? And how they do it?” His voice is a little too nonchalant to be natural, and she’s definitely going to pick up on it, but he just hopes she won’t say anything about it. He waits for her reply patiently, feigning a don’t-care air about him as he pretends to study a painting on the wall opposite him.
/ [member=20]fuentes[/member]
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[/table]
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 500px; text-transform: lowercase; line-height: 100%; font-family: verdana; font-size: 7pt; text-align: justify"][align=center][i] — sometimes i feel cold, even paralyzed
my interior world needs to sanitize
[table]
| [align=center] [color=transparent]<3
[color=transparent]claire loves u!
[align=center][size=9pt]sanome p.
you love em but you never ever trust 'em, never ever trust me, no. |
Part of her still thinks it's a joke, a particularly sick one at that. Only a Silver, as bored as they are with their self-indulgent life, would keep it up for this long. It would make for the perfect laugh a few months from now -- the entirety of a lower House embarrassed and the odd, stoic Silver reduced to nothing. How cruel it would be, Sanome thinks, to have to be seen in public without the familiar weight on that particular finger, on the small of her back as they walk into a room together.
That's what surprises her the most, how much she would miss him.
She doesn't know when it started, not exactly. It could've been when she'd been handed Cass's notebook by the King himself, allowed to run her hands over his declarations of love for a girl who had never even spoken a word to him. No, not then -- she'd been entertained then, her laughter bubbling out despite her best attempts to remain stoic. It wasn't when she finally said agreed to his proposal, because she'd been laughing then, too.
And it wasn't the wedding, either. She'd meant every single word of her vows, binding them together for the rest of their lives. She was far too gone by then, so it had to have happened sometime between the wedding and the proposal.
Whenever it was, she knew it wasn't her own doing, or even an act of God. It had to have been Cass -- of course it had to be Cass -- with that way of his, the air of devotion to her and her alone that would be impressive if it was all fake. But as suspicious as she is, Sanome knows Cass. She knows all too well how his emotions play on his face like actors in a crowded amphitheater, uninhibited by fear or embarrassment. So if this whole thing really was just a joke, she would've known three months ago.
But Cass is just as gone as she is. He's just more blunt about it, and she likes that.
They're at a party and they're both pretending to care about whatever some other Silver is saying. She's better at it than Cass, but she still sneaks glances at him when she's supposed to be paying attention. All light is his, the way it sharpens his features and brightens his eyes, even if it isn't his own doing. It accentuates the almost imperceptible clench in his jaw as the other Silver says something about the squalor Reds live in, how it's they're own fault. Sanome tightens her grip on his hand and hopes he knows to keep it together, don't let go in front of everyone.
He's still reeling from the news about his father, and she understands that. She knows the feeling of being a public lie, the truth ruminating just under the skin and waiting for one small cut to spill out in earnest. She's just glad Cass thinks he's the only one hiding something.
His kiss later that evening feels like a reward, a thanks, whatever she needs it to be. "You really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” and she feels a squeeze around her hand before he walks away. She cleans her face, exchanges her dress for a nightgown and joins him on the bed, smiling as she sees he's claimed the right side the way he always does. She crawls to his side and curls in, her head laid on his chest while she listens to him talk and pretends not to notice the way his heartbeat quickens. When he calls her name, she acknowledges it with a low hum. There's something else coming, that she hears in his voice.
"What do you... think about the Scarlet Guard?"
Sanome hadn't expected that. It's a fair question, she doesn't begrudge him that, but it's an odd one to ask. They're both Silvers -- what does he expect her to say? Does he think she'll repeat the rhetoric that they're evil, terrorists hellbent on destroying the natural order, the delicate "balance" between Reds and Silvers? Because in all honesty, Sanome hasn't thought about them. And she tells him that.
"Nothing." It sounds more harsh then she'd intended, so she continues, "I don't think about them, other than what people say about them. They're dangerous, supposedly." She looks back at him, assuming there's more to this than just the small talk they make before they fall asleep. Cass doesn't get philosophical, not like this. It could have something to do with his father, and the thought alone makes her mind race. "Why do you ask?"
/ whew!
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[/table]
[align=center] oh, what a time to be alive! — hub
[table]
| [align=center] [color=transparent]<3
[color=transparent]claire loves u!
[align=center][size=9pt]CASSIUS H.
HERE I AM, JUST ANOTHER BOY SINGING SONGS THAT OTHERS HAVE SUNG ･✧ |
The brief silence after his question feels monumental and weighty, a deafening roar as his ears seem to ring. He reaches up with the arm on the side where she’s laying her chest, stroking her hair like he does when he needs to calm himself down. He finds a lock of orange and twirls it with his finger loosely, unable to look at her as he continues to stare defiantly at the ceiling. He doesn’t even know how he’ll break the question. How are you supposed to tell your wife that want to join a revolution? You don’t, that’s what. And yet, Cass still finds himself yearning to say the words, to tell her that they should just run away together and help fix the broken system that they’re currently helping flourish.
The Red slums have never felt so close as they do now, just outside the outskirts of the city and yet having felt so far away his entire life. He had never been a typical Silver child, and he suspects now after knowing the truth about his father that perhaps his mother had something to do with the way he thinks. She would never say it out loud, but he thinks the Reds’ lifestyles saddens her, too. After all, it took Cass’ father away from her. Kept them apart. And not just that—people dying every day for no reason, no cause. Just because. He thinks about his father now, a Red with powers who never even got to spend any time with his son, a son who now sits and misses a man he’s never met.
Sanome’s response is diplomatic, and his attempt at scoping out her opinion before pushing a huge decision on her is starting to crumble before his eyes. He can feel her head move so she’s looking at him, but he still can’t even force himself to loom at her for nerves. Usually, she’s the only thing he sees, but right now? He can’t even look his own wife in the eyes. His hand moves from playing with her hair to wrapping around her shoulders, hoping the action keeps it from fidgeting too much. He doesn’t even know how to put into words what he’s feeling, and he’s quiet for a couple long moments as Sanome’s question lingers in the air between them, thick and heavy and full to the brim with uncertainty.
”I just...” The words still don’t want to come out, and Cass’ adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he searches for the right words to say. “I just can’t stop thinking about my dad. He died for them, you know. The Scarlet Guard. Mother told me he was one of their members, back before they made themselves public. He was some sort of spy. He was killed when the king sent soldiers to raid their base. Mother was 3 months pregnant at the time.” He doesn’t why he suddenly finds himself telling his parents’ story, but it seems to need to be said. There needs to be some sort of leadup, and he doesn’t know what it needs to be, but he’s making it up as he goes. “My father was from that Red slum, the one not twenty minutes from here. It really... I don’t know. It’s been bothering me, I suppose,” he says ambiguously.
It’s when he finally looks down at her, at her dark skin and orange hair and attentive eyes looking only at him, that he realizes he can’t lie to her. She’s going to see through it anyways, but other than that, he just can’t not tell her what he’s thinking. He can’t help but imagine all the scenarios in his head, what will happen when he asks her. Will she join him? Let him leave and cover up his disappearance? Divorce him and marry some other guy who doesn’t have this much of a guilty conscience and overloaded baggage? He feels the urge to throw up as he thinks about ir, but he has to do this. He forces himself to to give her a smile—it’s not the time and place for that—and soldiers on. “Baby, I can’t stop thinking that it’s my duty to join them. I’ve been really thinking about it. Please don’t get mad,” he adds on last minute as some sort of cushion for the bomb he just dropped. He can’t look at her again, afraid of her answer, and resorts back to staring at the ceiling, heart thundering in his chest.
|
[/table]
[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 500px; text-transform: lowercase; line-height: 100%; font-family: verdana; font-size: 7pt; text-align: justify"][align=center][i] — sometimes i feel cold, even paralyzed
my interior world needs to sanitize
[table]
| [align=center] [color=transparent]<3
[color=transparent]claire loves u!
[align=center][size=9pt]sanome p.
you love em but you never ever trust 'em, never ever trust me, no. |
Sanome sits in silence as she listens to the story of his parents, his grip on her shoulder tightening to what would be an almost uncomfortable degree had it been anyone but Cass. She wants to say something, but what could she say? Comforting words wouldn't bring his father back from the dead, and that's if she had any to give in the first place. Comfort, in some way, required a series of lies Sanome was never good at telling, all of them building up to that final "everything will be OK". That wouldn't have even worked in this situation, so the woman hoped her complete and total silence had even a remote semblance of support.
His ring digs into her shoulder. Their ring.
He still shows it off, three months later. As though every Silver hasn't already seen it, as if they weren't all there for the ceremony when she slipped it onto his finger. Sanome decided a few weeks ago that he must have some sort of short-term memory loss, the way he treats his wedding ring like it's his very first night with it even now. It's almost funny, then, the way he flaunts their ring while she spent the entirety of the next day slipping it on and off in those rare moments where she wasn't the center of his attention. She still can't explain why she did it. Her ring stays on now, permanently, and she couldn't even imagine a reason to take it off.
Until Cass gives her one, and God, she hates him for it, because of course he ended with a plea for mercy, as if that wasn't a given.
He's not looking at her -- the ceiling's become so fascinating all of a sudden -- but that doesn't stop her from bringing her gaze up to what she can see of his face. He would say that joining the Scarlet Guard is his "duty", as though he were a knight prophesied to slay the dragon Calore and free the land from evil. She thinks about that, along with other things, as she stares in silence.
Her options. She thinks about those, just as Cass did.
Divorce is immediately out of the question. Ending a marriage with King Calore's blessing would be disastrous, and no one else would even agree to marry her if she were insane enough to try to remarry. Getting married to Cass in the first place was pure luck, and Sanome wasn't willing to try her chances again. Letting him join the Scarlet Guard and covering up his disappearance is out, too. It surprised her, but Sanome found she got a nervous ache in her stomach whenever Cass was out of view, even when she knew he was safe in a different part of the Summerton ballroom. If he were to join the Scarlet Guard, she'd have no way to know for certain that he was truly safe.
And that, that would be what kills her.
She translates her entire thought process into a single word, "OK," and immediately decides that Cass might start sobbing unless she elaborates. But how does she tell him? There's a way to do it, but the silvery words dance on the tip of her leaden tongue, just out of her reach.
She draws a breath, and tries what she can. "You aren't supposed to go anywhere I can't follow," Sanome recites slowly, deliberately. It's part of their vows, the same piece she'd almost choked on during the ceremony and the closest she'd ever gotten to crying in over a decade. She hopes he remembers it. "I can follow you to the Scarlet Guard."
God, she wishes he would just look at her.
"So I will. Just don't just us both killed."
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[/table]
[align=center] oh, what a time to be alive! — hub
|
