castles and crowns | {tristen}

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

♛ K E L L A N F R A Y ♛
i can't feel my face
when i'm with you

Freeing himself from the sorry excuse of a home he had was something of a second-nature to Kellan Fray. "Going to see a friend," he would lie, or "Need to get in some extra training." which was mostly always true. Today he told the truth though. Today he walked past his parents going through their papers and his mother was all too quick to stop him. "Excuse me, Kellan? Where are you off to?" "Going to see Aunt Baphilda."

She was his great aunt, actually. She was older than dirt and had more money than Ripred himself, and therefore was worthy of Kellan's attention. She adored him. Ever since he could remember, he was showered with gifts and praise from the woman. If ever there were a person promoting that Kellan was, indeed, a good person, it was Great Aunt Baphilda. And it had been a few months since he had stopped in to rattle the old bird's cage.

She had a classic style: clear fields that were the home to a few horses on the outer-boundaries of the district, the pathway to her home lined by oak trees older than even she was, and after a bit of a walk, a mansion. He sometimes wondered if he had been in every room. It certainly wouldn't have surprised him if he hadn't.

He didn't bother knocking: Aunt Baphilda was growing a bit hard of hearing those days anyway. Instead, he stepped in and closed the door behind him in one swift motion. After a few minutes of searching, he found her in the sun room reading one of those ancient novels she always carried around. As per usual, her fingers and wrists were frosted to the maximum with gold and diamonds. Her white-blond hair fell in loose curls long past her shoulders, and crows feet that housed deep brown eyes focused enchantingly on the pages in front of them.

He did his best to sneak up behind her, leaned in, a stole a quick kiss from her cheek. "Oh! Kellan! How lovely to see you, Dear!" she grabbed his hand with both of her own, patting him with the one on top. "How've you been?" He actually did find himself fond of the old lady. Fond in a sort of way that was more than power or fame. Fond in a way that, when it came down to it, Aunt Baphilda was there for him to talk to. He always assumed his brothers and sisters were too intimidated by the old bat to open up, which was fine. He liked that she was sort of like his secret, his escape, his safe haven.

Plus, he had heard a few rumors that everything in her name was to be left to him in the event of her death.

"Wonderful," he lied, offering her a smile. Like him, her eyes were dark as coffee, cold as winter. He could see why the others would be intimidated. She was a scary person on the outside with her jewels and her pride and her high tastes. On the inside, she was a sweet woman. And he cared for her a great deal. "Yourself?" She smiled at him.

"I have got to show you something. It was in the pool room last I checked."

She had a habit of making games of her gifts. A few times she had tried scavenger hunts, which would take hours since her house was like living in a world separate from District One. Sometimes she would quiz him with past tributes and victors, each question answered correctly was worth a hundred dollars. He returned her smile, gave her a second kiss on the cheek, and hustled down to the pool room.

He heard splashing within it as he drew nearer. Closer and closer, and he was certain there was something-- someone-- within it. He pushed open the door, and at first, saw only the clear blue of the water and the rough cement that surrounded it. He looked up at the glass ceiling, at the blue sky on the other side, and then something broke the surface of the water.

Hair like a raven, skin like snow, eyes like the ocean and cheeks like roses. She was beautiful. But why the fuck was she in Aunt Baphilda's pool? "Who are you, exactly?"

[eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris]

I'm still searching for Edith Harmon -- stalled, in a sense, but I've yet to let the hope that kept me warm for all of my childhood die out. I've brought myself to believe that everything happens for a reason, and if becoming a doll for the amusement of a barren, wealthy woman is what Ripred had in mind for me, I choose to believe that there is purpose in it; that there is a meaning behind a paranoid little girl from the slums of the district being thrust into a world of gold, when she herself is little more than a daughter of plain earth. I'm not special. I'll never be someone who matters in the grand scheme of things, and I'm fine with that -- but I'll gladly hide behind a gilded mask, for hope that clues of my sister's whereabouts will be written on its material.

Baphilda Fray is not the worst living partner, however. Truly, she's hardly noticeable. The various workers, who she insists are not just merely servants, are a far more common sight than she, and we usually only interact during the daily dinner, or when I'm forced to accompany her to a party, where I hear what the other privileged citizens of One whisper about me. All of the rumors -- that I'm a thug out for money who weaseled my way into Baphilda's life, or that I'm just the product of an experiment to raise Baphilda's good graces in the community. This new world is unwelcoming, and nearly as paranoid as I am, but I've done well enough to adapt. I've started to use the proper silverware, in favor of simply using my fingers, though I'll never stop seeing it as the easiest option. I'm still socially awkward, but Baphilda says that it's charming, and that my quirks are what will make me a name around the district, and if that is so, I pray Edith hears someone speak of me.

I take solace in the pool today, after having a small chat with Baphilda over the book she had been reading in the sun room. "It's a mystery," she had said, smiling at me with her thin lips. "Don't you love a good mystery, my dear?" I had nodded, forcing a smile for the woman's benefit, before heading on my way. (Where's Edith Harmon?) The water is cool, relaxing. I feel free, even though concrete surrounds my personal sea. When I close my eyes, and when I plunge myself beneath the surface -- I feel as if I can swim away, and that when I surface, Edith will be there staring back at me, like a reflection; like a haunting recollection of memories, rippling across the water, but never taking solid form. I float silently beneath the water, eyes open despite the faint sting.

I suddenly hear the warped sound of heavy footsteps, confused as Baphilda's feeble feet could never make such an echo. I swim upwards, breaking through the watery sky with a flip of my hair -- but it's not Baphilda who stares down at me. The boy who looks at me is handsome, and he is around my age. Golden waves frame his chiseled face, and his stance leads me to believe that he fancies himself as royalty. He doesn't know me, but I know him. I've seen him in the pictures around the mansion, and I've more than once heard Baphilda praise his name. "Kellan Fray," I say, swimming towards the steps, surprisingly not embarrassed to step out with a fair amount of bare flesh showing, walking to a towel and patting it against my wet body. 

"I live here," I state flatly, though I have no intention of coming across as cold. I approach him, now starting to dry my hair. "You're Baphilda's nephew, yeah? The one who's pretty much the son she never had?" I look him over once more, and it's safe to say that I've never seen a specimen quite like him. I toss away the towel, smiling up at him. "I'm Maisie, and you could say I'm the daughter Baphilda never had," I continue, finding my cheeky tone surprising. He's an intimidating statue of a young man, but I don't fear him. I extend a hand, though Baphilda would bark that curtsying is the proper introduction. She's not here, though, and I don't have to act like someone I'm not.

I'm just Maisie, and I'm not afraid of this new world.

table: zoë

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

♛ K E L L A N F R A Y ♛
i can't feel my face
when i'm with you

He drank in her every word, watching her like she was a delayed explosion, like she was a bomb set to blow at any given moment. She knew who he was. He was the fire in the distance that she could see the signs of on the walls and in people's talk, but she had never been close enough to feel the heat or smell the smoke. And to him, Maisie was a snake in the grass: he was completely unaware of her existence until she was right behind him, poised to strike.

He didn't mind the dark, but he hated being left in it. He liked to be the smart one in a situation, to know who was who and where they belonged. He liked to know the strengths and weaknesses and the signs they were lying and the signs they were being honest. But he had none of that. She was a blank canvas, unmarked with notes and pictures and memories by his paint brush.

"...you could say I'm the daughter Baphilda never had," she claimed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. It was true that Kellan was like Baphilda's son. If he were completely honest, he considered her more of a parent than either of his real ones. Sure, she hid behind her money, and she thought perhaps love could be bought, but she did it for the sake of others. Not the sake of herself.

"I doubt it," he started, rolling his eyes, "for that to be true, she would have had to mention you at last once. Maisie, you said?" he tapped his finger on his chin as he neared her. He stopped just short of where she stood. Even when she stood completely straight, he towered over her and it made him feel a sense of power. He was a shark and she was swimming in his hunting grounds. It was a pity for her, but a game for him. A game that would begin play immediately. "Nope. Never heard of you."

He stared at her watery sapphires for one, two, three, four stolen moments, then offered a crooked half-smile. He was still completely aware of her beauty, there was no denying it. Frankly, she resembled Pyrite quite a bit. They were different still. Pyrite held more conviction in her veins. This girl was a hurricane and Pyrite was a blizzard: the two should never have been compared. Yet he found himself imagining it was Pyrite's frosty eyes and frozen features staring back at him for a moment. After this, his gaze began to falter. He took a seat in one of the lounge chairs and stared at the bleach-white sky. "But you didn't answer my question." He wondered if Aunt Baphilda would be along anytime soon, or if he had plenty of time to see just how this new toy worked. He had to admit, he would have much preferred something more simple, like a dog or a wad of cash. But perhaps she would do.

"I asked you who you were, not your name. I want your story. Why are you swimming in my aunt's pool? Why have I never met you?" For good measure, he twirled his finger through the air and rolled his eyes. "You know: the good stuff."

Would she play his game? Would she satisfy him? Or was this a broken toy that needed to be sent back to its previous owner?