who shot that arrow in your throat? who missed the crimson apple?

[heirship]

T O   W H O M   I T   M A Y   C O N C E R N:

my father is dead.
❧

Comments

entirely too much pussy on this post. -stops this.-

[reposing_spring]

[It would not please his sister to know how much this news amuses him. Sickness is a thing of his, the rapid and sluggish ways in which a body can destroy be destroyed. If you care to look, you will find this young man with his hands jauntily in his pockets: smiling, perfect teeth all in line in a perfect pink mouth.]

THE TESTOSTERONE HAS ARRIVED.

[heirship]

[ He sees you. Remembers you vaguely, perhaps-- but that's how it is, with Aubrey. The multitudes pass him by, and his eye only knows to linger on a certain few. Obsession and dismissal, but little between.

Still, that smile is unnerving somehow. One does not smile on an eve of death. It isn't proper. ]

If you're here to mourn my father, you haven't the face for it.

more than you, pussy boy.

[reposing_spring]

[Not proper at all, but then, he's never cared much for humans and their sense of propriety. He laughs faintly, giving the boy a mocking sort of expression.]

I don't care about your father, child.

/face in hands

[heirship]

[ There's a certain tension in Aubrey's shoulder. A suspicion. He's a suspicious boy, this one, and more than that, he despises being mocked. Inwardly, he hates the look on that face and makes his voice polite, steady. ]

Then I'm certain I've no idea why you've come calling.

I raped your rapist, *suck it.*

[reposing_spring]

[He is a cruel thing, would have to be to come toy with a human at such a delicate time. Hah.]

Certainly not to be faced with your sour expression. It does do something miserable to your face.

this face is for you: >:|!

[heirship]

[ It would be more cruel, if the youngest Windham was in mourning. But the fact of the matter is, he can't be bothered with it. The old man is dead, and may he rot in his grave. ]

I'm afraid it isn't my expression at all. I was simply born with a miserable face. [ An outwardly polite tone, manners coating sarcasm thickly. ] I would direct your complaints to the father who gave it to me, but as you can see, he is quite unavailable.

8]

[reposing_spring]

[He smiles, pleased to hear it.]

It was you, then, who invited Ladybird in.

[He can smell her touch on this house, would have to have his senses deadened not to recognize her after she went to such trouble to have him notice her. Is this the boy she found so fascinating? Mortals... useless little things. He wonders if she would still love him if he ruined her toy...]

[heirship]

[ There it is again. The distrusting look in faintly narrowed eyes. Suspicion and hazel color. A friend of the beetle, then? All the more reason to be wary of him. He knows Ladybird-- understands her preference for creatures that sting and bite. She's a nasty little thing, and so is he. It's a terrible companionship. ]

I don't invite her. I only accepted her gift. [ His words come quietly at length. ] She comes and goes as she pleases.

[reposing_spring]

[A mocking lift of his eyebrows. Stupid little human. To accept her gift is to invite her in. To return her gifts with flattery and baubles certainly does nothing for the boy's claim.]

Yes, that is her way, I don't think I need you to explain her to me.

[heirship]

[ He is fond of her, in his way. She calls him the bee-wolf. Her little wasp. Her kisses burn him, her wishes ruin him. ]

Forgive me, then. [ His malice is subtle, quiet. Like most things about him. His selfishness, all the nasty things about this spoiled little boy are kept deeply nestled and festering inside him. ] What is it you want?

[reposing_spring]

[He considers this without paying the slightest attention to the boy's venom. He is the king of snakes and venom, it effects him not at all when even his blood is vitriol.]

I want nothing from you, and if I did I should have taken it from you, long ago. I have only come to survey what you have wrought yourself.

[heirship]

[ Something about those words reminds him of June, and loathing festers in him. His wide mouth tightens at the corners. He doesn't raise his voice, but the words are sharper, irritated. ]

Survey to your heart's content. Then get out.

[reposing_spring]

[His mouth smiles, eyes narrowing, indeed a snakelike gesture, when he reaches up his hand to curve it to the boy's face there is the overwhelming scent of flowers, cloying and dizzying. He has a soft breathless voice and such a beautiful face.]

Rot yourself, if it pleases you, for it pleases me, but do not think yourself too mighty in the interim, worm. She may find it to her liking, but remember that she will live long after you have died, if you think she cares for your fate, you will find yourself sorely mistaken.

GOOD MORNING :V

[heirship]

[ Aubrey stills by instinct when touched. A creature conditioned well to believe that such caresses will always be followed by hurt. Bruised hips and reddened wrists. His throat closes on itself for a dreadful moment, and suddenly his senses are filled with the smell of blossoms. His exhale, when it finally comes, is soft and unsteady.

The boy is uncomfortable. His words are quiet, almost a murmur but edged. Self-loathing and self-pitying, perhaps a bit more honest than most of the things that come out of that wide mouth. Distracted, maybe, by the sweet scent and Spring's lovely face. ]

I've never made the mistake of thinking that anyone cares for my fate.

1/2 /randomly shows up just for you.

[thefourbosses]

[ Famine, of course, is not invited, but her brother is. Where once there was no one standing beside Reposing Spring, there are not one but two of the Horsemen. A girl with odd colored streaks in her hair and a serious look to her face, a middle-aged man in a sharp suit with diamond cuff links and expensive sunglasses.

The later surveys the clusters of dour-faced visitors, giving a small shrug of his shoulders before turning to look at Spring. His head cants to one side. ]

This him? He's...taller than I thought he'd be.

[thefourbosses]

[ Famine doesn't turn to look at her brother, just rolls her eyes slightly at him the way younger siblings tend to do on occasion. Turning her face to Spring, she tucks some of her hair behind one ear. ]

Yeah, this is him, [ she says over her shoulder and then offers a hand in greeting. ] Hey. I'm guessing you already know my brother.