My Ranking Points
yo boi writin this bc willowwind wont stop asking someone to
Elijah wanted to do one thing.
Punch that goddamn drunken man in the face.
He was just glad he was able to be exempted from seeing the queen with all the prisoners because of the vomit on his uniform.
Elijah trudged through the festival slyly, hiding in the shadows so no one would see him or the stain.
Finally, within a row of brightly coloured tents he saw a grand grey one, and smiled to himself as he slipped inside from behind.
He immediately recognised the interior, the colours, the sounds of the birds rustling, the familiar musk of his aunt’s expensive perfume, and slipped the dark red tunic off before searching around for his clothes.
“Auntie where’s my white shirt?” he asked as he walked past some curtains further into the tent.
Cerys lay draped upon a lush pile of silks, in her favourite form; half bird, half human. That was when Elijah noticed the tall, blond boy staring at him.
He wore a red jacket and a black ribbon tied around his neck, and for a moment Elijah would have sworn he was whipped, till he noticed the boy wore no pants, and then realised he did, they were just an **** beige colour.
“Charlie dear.” Cerys purred, “It’s in the velvet pouch in the back, be a dal and put the sound-proof charm on the curtains?”
Elijah saw the strange boy look away, his ears seemed to be slightly tinted red but he couldn’t be sure from all his aunt’s colour changing candles. The blond boy mouthed the word ‘Charlie’ to himself, testing the way it formed in his mouth, before locking eye contact back with Elijah.
He turned back into the tent, no longer wanting anything to do with this guy who had no style whatsoever. Elijah closed the curtain, turning on the sound-proof charm so he wouldn’t eavesdrop and getting changed into casual attire.
Upon leaving the tent a smile was brought upon Elijah’s face. The whole rest of the day to look around at things and maybe flirt with a few people.
Well, that was the dream. Elijah was far too introverted to ever try anything like that.
He slipped into a large tavern, the only one in Malabar Hills, and grabbed a corner seat. The owner knew Elijah well and brought him a mug of hot chocolate. He smiled at the older man and began to read the novel he had brought with himself, trying to drone out the chatter of a group of teenagers nearby.