[Kell sends his message while he's already on his way to the Castle gate. The guards stationed there take interest at first, almost come to asking him what is doing loitering about the entrance. To his luck, one recognizes Kell as one of the Summoned, so they let him be.
Left to his devices, Kell waits, occupying himself with the silly children's trick. It involves throwing small stones, fusing them with magic on their way up, splitting back on the way down, and catching. The challenge is to split them each time into smaller and smaller pieces each round. Kell has never been able to go below ten before some of the parts just turned to sand, and that's a losing condition.]
[It was easy enough to hide behind casual jokes in his messages to Kell, but truthfully, the thought of leaving the safety of the castle walls sets his nerves ablaze. Since returning to Thorne, he hasn't ventured any farther than the grounds and gardens. For months, the castle had felt like a prison whose walls drew in closer and closer. Now, the fresh air feels like freedom, the walls like a shield. Only the dark is suffocating.
Wilhelm tells himself he'll be fine. Kell will be with him. They aren't going far. The people who did all that to them are rotting in prison, which is more than they deserve.
Arriving at the entryway, he catches Kell halfway through his little game. Hands in his pockets, his eyes follow the stones from the air to Kell's palm and back again.]
[It's equally easy to notice that Kell is far from the image of casual ease he's trying to project. He's not occupying himself by what he does because he's bored. He does it, because otherwise he'd jump at every passing shadow and unexpected sound.
He still does jump when Wilhelm speaks up. He didn't notice him coming. Covers it up with a quiet laughter, that against his best efforts sounds more than a little nervous.]
You like it? I can teach you if you want.
Come!
[Kell grabs Wilhelm by the hand and leads him out of the castle gate. Only when they're truly out, he slows down. The path he takes is long and winded. The bakery is close to the Winking Cauldron, so it shouldn't take this long. There are shorter routes than the one he chose. But every time they would need to walk through an empty alley, Kell turns back to find a way where there's more people.
He had chosen this particular part of day on purpose. It's bright, warm, and the city is at its busiest. And still he can't help growing gradually more and more nervous with every minute they are outside the castle walls. This was supposed to be his attempt at fighting the urge to hole up in his room... and drag Wilhelm from his. It's a lot more difficult than he expected.
They can smell the bakery even before they can see the actual building.]
[That's the thing about trauma. Your brain gets stuck in a time and place you should have left behind, and sometimes it tricks the rest of you into thinking you're still there too. Wilhelm is wary of shadows, suspicious of the hedges in the gardens. He eats like he might not get another chance soon.
The brightness of the day helps keep the shadows in his head at bay. Kell's hand — which he doesn't bother to pull away from, long after what would be considered normal — makes him feel safe. As they walk, he asks questions about Kell's magic and fills quiet gaps with idle comments. He doesn't say a word about the roundabout route they take. When they arrive at the bakery, he pauses to glance at the display in the little window jutting out into the street, before pushing through the door.]
What are you getting?
[He's taken his hand back by now, but he hovers by Kell's side.]
[Kell wouldn't have admitted, even under torture, but the fact the Wilhelm doesn't pull his hand a way for a long while is as much reassurance for him, as it must be for Wilhelm. There's the undercurrent of worry at the very edge of his mind, that he's going to lose him the moment he lets go. If he lets go, and turn back to see, Wilhelm won't be there. A faint echo of the terror he felt when they pushed through the damp darkness after pushing through the webbing on their way out of the cave. Even fainter of the one he felt whenever Wilhelm wandered somewhere in his sleep, way back in the cave. And Kell had first to squash the panic that any of the monsters that stalked the cave had got to him. Before he could go out to look for him.
Kell is more than happy to explain the magic behind the trick to Wilhelm. He'd show him how it works exactly once they got their cake and found a place to sit with it.]
The peach one. Do you know it's the only fruit that looks like a butt?
[If his grin is a little forced, that's because Kell does force it. For Wille, and for himself. Juvenile, even childish, he knows that. Still, a better coping mechanism than drinking himself into an unconscious stupor. And there are only so many training dummies he can destroy before someone comes to complain.]
[The question surprises a laugh out of him. Shaking his head, he playfully smacks Kell's arm.]
You're so stupid. Delinquent.
[But a grin lights his face, and even the dumbest of jokes is a breath of fresh air. It's another piece of that normality Wilhelm has tried to recover since returning to Thorne. The process of reconstructing what things were like before plods along in fits and starts.]
I want... [His eyes wander thoughtfully over the cakes displayed on the counter.] Chocolate.
[He fishes a coin purse from his pocket and, hoping he has enough, pokes through its skimpy contents. His only source of income is running errands around the castle town or Nott, and until this week he was spending most of his day in bed. Well, and before that he was, you know, being held captive in a subterranean pit. This is all to say that he's even more broke than usual.]
[Kell chuckles. He swats Wilhelm's hand away. The whole commotion gets them a true death stare from older lady that was just finishing her purchase when they entered the shop. She leaves in a cloud of righteous indignation for scandalous behavior of youth these days. Kell shoots Wilhelm a wicked grin. Delinquents both of them.]
Chocolate then!
[Kell raises an eyebrow when he notices Wilhelm taking out his coin purse. On no, you won't. He's well aware the out of them two he's the one with any serious money.]
Put it back. I invited you, so it's on me.
[Before Wilhelm has a chance to protest or say anything, Kell goes to the counter to order them one peach, one chocolate cheesecake. When the sweet older man behind the counter compliments him on being a good older brother, Kell doesn't correct him. He pays, picks up their pastries, wishes the man good day and rushes Wilhelm out of the door. He doesn't think Wilhelm would greatly protest to being taken for his brother, but he might say something. And even if only for this brief moment Kell wants to pretend they're just two youngsters out for mischief, and not a pair of unrelated, but equally traumatized princes from faraway worlds, fresh out of three weeks of torture.]
[Wilhelm feigns a look of innocence as the woman passes them, her face set rigidly in judgement, but as soon as she's out the door, he shares a glance with Kell and laughs. Shit, it's not like they were starting a fist fight. At Kell's insistence, he pulls his purse shut and puts it back in his pocket. No protest, but there's a little sheepishness when he says:]
Thanks, Kell.
[He shadows him to the counter, watching the baker cut slices from the cakes displayed behind the counter, one with preserved peaches arranged on top and another drizzled with chocolate. It doesn't look quite like the cheesecake he's familiar with, with a flakier crust holding it all together, but he's eager to try it.
The brother comment knocks him a little off kilter, but Kell has him halfway out the door before he can form a proper response, and maybe...he doesn't have to correct random strangers of their misconceptions. It's just weird, even coming up on a year later, to be in a world where Erik never was, and nobody knows he ever existed.]
[Kell responds quickly, calling on a wide grin to cover up the gnawing feeling of guilt for pushing Wilhelm so quickly out of the shop. For propping up a lie only because it felt good for him.
In the end, it was selfish not to say a thing. He made it look as if he was trying to be someone he is not. Not his first time, but that's hardly an excuse. As if he was trying to fill the void left by the brother Wilhelm was separated from when he was pulled from his world to this one. Kell didn't need much to realize how important Eric is for Wilhelm. How much his absence hurts the young prince.
Even at his most selfish, Kell wouldn't have dared to think he could replace Wilhelm's older brother. That he could even occupy a similar place. But he feels strangely protective of him anyway. Ever since that botched spell in the forest of Lunae. Even more so after the horrors the Acolytes had put them through.
It's strange. They don't even have all that much in common. Yet, there's something in Wilhelm that makes him care. Kell doesn't really know what it is, or who he wants to be to Wilhelm. What drives him to go to such lengths - to make an utter fool of himself - only to wrangle a smile from this sad, stressed boy. It's not what he'd usually do, it doesn't make any sense, and yet it's there.
He finds them a nice, sunny patch of grass with a good view of the rest of the park, but obscured a bit by an assortment of bushes. The arrangement seems to be ornamental, and Kell doesn't know if they're allowed to sit there. He also doesn't care. It's a good spot, and if someone wants to make objections they will have to come and tell him in person. Until then, he's going to assume they have all the right to lounge where they choose.]
[It's funny now, to remember how he used to think Kell resented him. He assumed in the other's eyes he was a nuisance, but it turns out he's a problem Kell doesn't mind dealing with. Wilhelm doesn't take that for granted. Nobody here owes him a thing — that's a choice Kell has made.
They haven't talked about what happened in the pit. They don't need to. They'd lived it, and that was enough. Whether the Acolytes poisoned your brain or not, they all became different people down there. For his part, Wilhelm remembers less the man he'd screamed at hysterically, and more the man who'd pulled him along when the rock started raining down.
He plops himself down in the grass that Kell has chosen as their spot, stretching his legs out and tilting his face toward the sun. He doesn't take that for granted anymore either.]
You realize you picked, like, the worst dessert to eat with your hands, right?
[Kell looks at Wilhelm, looks at the cake, at Wilhelm again. He blinks, and then starts laughing. Maniacally.
Saints, he's right. They'll have crumbs all over themselves by the end of this. It takes him a longer while to calm down.]
I... did not think this through.
[He grins. Who care anyway. It's not like they an audience to attend. It's a park, they don't need to look presentable. Besides, what kind of delinquents would it make of them if they did?]
But look, at least there's no whipped cream involved like in some of those truly fancy desserts. We'll be fine.
[Wilhelm laughs too. The situation itself is kind of funny, worth a chuckle, but Kell — held hostage by laughter — elevates it to another level. That's the best kind of funny. When the laughter starts to ebb, Wilhelm eggs him on again by unwrapping his piece of cake from the thick wax paper and waggling it in Kell's face. He mimes out how awkward it is to eat the thing without a fork. It's a solid minute before they collect themselves.]
Who let us plan anything?
[Well, it was all Kell's idea, but Wilhelm will share in the blame anyway. It's more fun to be a conspirator. Now he actually tries a bite of the cheesecake, and though the flaky crust starts to fall apart in his hands, it's good.]
[He waggles his eyebrows in a way that's already comical for people with normal eyes, but looks downright farcical for someone with mismatched ones, like his. Like a circus act. Entirely as it's supposed to look. For all his brooding persona, Kell prizes himself for always being able to make Rhy laugh. He can make Wilhelm laugh too. Now that Wille managed to do his act on him first.]
What kind of delinquents would it make of us if we required a permission?
[At least he's decent enough not to talk with his mouth full as he gorges half of his cake in one bite.]
[He shoves at Kell's shoulder, shaking his head but laughing anyway. Stop, he's trying to eat without spraying crumbs everywhere. Wilhelm has wondered on several occasions why Kell's eye is all black like that, but it's not the sort of thing you can approach politely, so he has contented himself with the conclusion that it must have something to do with magic. Right now, it's more funny than strange.]
I refuse to believe that you're the responsible one.
[He takes another bite. The best strategy is to finish in as few bites as possible in order to minimize the mess.]
[Kell regrets his greediness the moment Wilhelm shoves at his shoulder. Inhales what he shouldn't and part laughs part cries through a coughing fit. Ends up doubling down in fit of giggles, wiping tears from his eyes as he tries to keep the rest of his cake away from the ground. He wheezes, finally being able to regain his breathing and some semblance of dignity. Enough at least to respond.]
Believe what you will. I really am.
[Kell's smile turns from mischievous to genuine, almost wistful. He'd been so angry at Rhy so often, and yet looking through his memories now, he misses those moments. Those were the good times. When they still were able to get into trouble and cause no more damage than a broken window, a couple of broken chairs and a few broken bones. Bad dog. Rhy called him once when he'd just tipped the chair under a drunkard who spoke ill of the heir to the throne, blissfully unaware said heir and his brother are there, listening.]
Mostly. The things he got us into were usually his ideas.
[Key word: usually. He can't, in good faith, pin it all on Rhy.]
[When that coughing fit seizes Kell, Wilhelm leans over to clap a hand to his back and try to help him through it. Easy, man. He continues chomping on his piece of cake, but all of his focus stays on Kell. Though he can't know what's passing through his head at this moment, he can guess that it's a reel of memories with his brother. The kind of memories you want to take down from the shelf and replay over and over again. Rhy is here, of course, but that doesn't make those times less golden.
It just makes Kell very lucky, that he can make new memories with his brother too.
Wilhelm doesn't want to dwell on that, or the fact that he's coming up on a year here, which also means that he's coming up on a year without Erik. It doesn't seem real. He covers up the shadow that crosses his face with a smile.]
Yeah, like what?
[With that, he finishes the cheesecake. All that's left is the crumbs all over his fingers.]
"Like sneaking out from the castle to see how it feels to walk around the city without all the guards watching over your every step. Drink, flirt, get into fights. Stupid things like that. Rhy would invent the most outrageous of disguises for us, but we always got caught or recognized anyway."
Kell smiles. He snaps his fingers. It turns his usual black coat into a ripped and dirty jacket stained with soil and soot, darkens and weathers his pants and boots. A poor man's clothes. The thing underneath doesn't change. It's just an illusion, a little trick or air and light.
"Because Rhy wouldn't get caught dead wearing something like this. Never would have sacrificed looking good for believability, and always insisted on keeping all his jewellery."
Kell lets out a sigh, a call out to those many times when he tried - and failed spectacularly each time - to convince Rhy to be a little less conspicuous.
"No matter how many times I told him, he'd look as beautiful in more modest clothing, and will be a lot safer looking less obviously wealthy, he never listened. He loved coming up with all those ridiculous disguises. We did get robbed a couple of times, threatened and beaten. It didn't change his mind. I think he liked the risk element involved. Knowing I would never let him get seriously hurt."
Because that was the truth. Even when they were children, Rhy could test the limits of how far Kell would let him push, but he knew he'd never be in any serious danger. Kell could get annoyed, he'd complain all the way, but as soon as he decided things go in the wrong direction, he intervened. Most of the time, all he had to do is reveal who he really was. And watch grown up men flee with a genuine dread in their eyes from one spoiled princeling and one feral creature that protected him. It took Kell time, and no small amount of chastising from Tieren, to stop going all out with his magic in those moments. This part was always his fun part in their illicit outings. He liked the feeling of power. He liked seeing adults fear him. Same adults that would otherwise laugh at him and mistreat him because he looked different from basically everyone in the city. Scrawny, pale and foreign. Tieren had really tough job convincing him to reign his impulses in, but even the guards knew Rhy is safer with him than he'd ever be with them.
Kell snaps his fingers once again to make the illusion dissolve and he's back in his regular Thornean clothes.
He shakes his head as Kell pokes fun at Rhy's preoccupation with his looks, but he's grinning too. That definitely sounds like Rhy. And Kell is right — he could probably pull off anything. Robbed, and threatened, and beaten have his eyebrows raising. But he gets it. The freedom of being a nobody for the night, of trying on a normal life, is worth the cost of a black eye.
So even Rhy, who takes his duty so seriously, who would not lay down that weight willingly, feels that way sometimes.
"I would've been right there with you." Flipping his hair back, he affects a look of innocence that is highly suspect. "Can you believe that I've been thrown out of a club for getting in a fight before?"
Not his finest moment. His mother had been steel forged in fury. His father, quietly and distantly disappointed. The tabloids had pounced on his fuck up and inflated it into a whole narrative of an out-of-control prince addicted to partying. Enough time has passed now, though, that he can squash it down into a funny anecdote.
It was always an attempt to break out of the corset of expectations, a shot at pretending they are not who they are, to maybe try on a life that does not carry this weight. In hindsight, Kell is happy they weren't going for a more convincing disguise. It would have been unfair.
"I bet you would, and I would have dragged both of your asses out of anything that would look too dicey, no matter the complaining."
Kell raises an eyebrow in open disbelief to Wilhelm's innocence act, but then follows along clutching his chest with a mock gasp.
"You? No way."
He's also absolutely awful at keeping a straight face so can't hold it for too long and just bursts into laughter bare minutes later.
"Of course I do. That's just the thing I'd imagine you getting caught at."
It's also something he often intervened at when Rhy got in trouble. It's eerie how Wille reminds him of Rhy at the most unexpected moments.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[There's a minute break before next message.]
[Seriously. Don't laugh at him. He knows it's pathetic.]
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[Not anymore. Apparently Abraxas has spoiled him.]
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switching to action in the middle of the tag because i'm lawless criminal with no decency
[Kell sends his message while he's already on his way to the Castle gate. The guards stationed there take interest at first, almost come to asking him what is doing loitering about the entrance. To his luck, one recognizes Kell as one of the Summoned, so they let him be.
Left to his devices, Kell waits, occupying himself with the silly children's trick. It involves throwing small stones, fusing them with magic on their way up, splitting back on the way down, and catching. The challenge is to split them each time into smaller and smaller pieces each round. Kell has never been able to go below ten before some of the parts just turned to sand, and that's a losing condition.]
gasp
Wilhelm tells himself he'll be fine. Kell will be with him. They aren't going far. The people who did all that to them are rotting in prison, which is more than they deserve.
Arriving at the entryway, he catches Kell halfway through his little game. Hands in his pockets, his eyes follow the stones from the air to Kell's palm and back again.]
Cool trick.
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He still does jump when Wilhelm speaks up. He didn't notice him coming. Covers it up with a quiet laughter, that against his best efforts sounds more than a little nervous.]
You like it? I can teach you if you want.
Come!
[Kell grabs Wilhelm by the hand and leads him out of the castle gate. Only when they're truly out, he slows down. The path he takes is long and winded. The bakery is close to the Winking Cauldron, so it shouldn't take this long. There are shorter routes than the one he chose. But every time they would need to walk through an empty alley, Kell turns back to find a way where there's more people.
He had chosen this particular part of day on purpose. It's bright, warm, and the city is at its busiest. And still he can't help growing gradually more and more nervous with every minute they are outside the castle walls. This was supposed to be his attempt at fighting the urge to hole up in his room... and drag Wilhelm from his. It's a lot more difficult than he expected.
They can smell the bakery even before they can see the actual building.]
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The brightness of the day helps keep the shadows in his head at bay. Kell's hand — which he doesn't bother to pull away from, long after what would be considered normal — makes him feel safe. As they walk, he asks questions about Kell's magic and fills quiet gaps with idle comments. He doesn't say a word about the roundabout route they take. When they arrive at the bakery, he pauses to glance at the display in the little window jutting out into the street, before pushing through the door.]
What are you getting?
[He's taken his hand back by now, but he hovers by Kell's side.]
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Kell is more than happy to explain the magic behind the trick to Wilhelm. He'd show him how it works exactly once they got their cake and found a place to sit with it.]
The peach one. Do you know it's the only fruit that looks like a butt?
[If his grin is a little forced, that's because Kell does force it. For Wille, and for himself. Juvenile, even childish, he knows that. Still, a better coping mechanism than drinking himself into an unconscious stupor. And there are only so many training dummies he can destroy before someone comes to complain.]
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You're so stupid. Delinquent.
[But a grin lights his face, and even the dumbest of jokes is a breath of fresh air. It's another piece of that normality Wilhelm has tried to recover since returning to Thorne. The process of reconstructing what things were like before plods along in fits and starts.]
I want... [His eyes wander thoughtfully over the cakes displayed on the counter.] Chocolate.
[He fishes a coin purse from his pocket and, hoping he has enough, pokes through its skimpy contents. His only source of income is running errands around the castle town or Nott, and until this week he was spending most of his day in bed. Well, and before that he was, you know, being held captive in a subterranean pit. This is all to say that he's even more broke than usual.]
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[Kell chuckles. He swats Wilhelm's hand away. The whole commotion gets them a true death stare from older lady that was just finishing her purchase when they entered the shop. She leaves in a cloud of righteous indignation for scandalous behavior of youth these days. Kell shoots Wilhelm a wicked grin. Delinquents both of them.]
Chocolate then!
[Kell raises an eyebrow when he notices Wilhelm taking out his coin purse. On no, you won't. He's well aware the out of them two he's the one with any serious money.]
Put it back. I invited you, so it's on me.
[Before Wilhelm has a chance to protest or say anything, Kell goes to the counter to order them one peach, one chocolate cheesecake. When the sweet older man behind the counter compliments him on being a good older brother, Kell doesn't correct him. He pays, picks up their pastries, wishes the man good day and rushes Wilhelm out of the door. He doesn't think Wilhelm would greatly protest to being taken for his brother, but he might say something. And even if only for this brief moment Kell wants to pretend they're just two youngsters out for mischief, and not a pair of unrelated, but equally traumatized princes from faraway worlds, fresh out of three weeks of torture.]
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Thanks, Kell.
[He shadows him to the counter, watching the baker cut slices from the cakes displayed behind the counter, one with preserved peaches arranged on top and another drizzled with chocolate. It doesn't look quite like the cheesecake he's familiar with, with a flakier crust holding it all together, but he's eager to try it.
The brother comment knocks him a little off kilter, but Kell has him halfway out the door before he can form a proper response, and maybe...he doesn't have to correct random strangers of their misconceptions. It's just weird, even coming up on a year later, to be in a world where Erik never was, and nobody knows he ever existed.]
What's next on our hitlist?
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[Kell responds quickly, calling on a wide grin to cover up the gnawing feeling of guilt for pushing Wilhelm so quickly out of the shop. For propping up a lie only because it felt good for him.
In the end, it was selfish not to say a thing. He made it look as if he was trying to be someone he is not. Not his first time, but that's hardly an excuse. As if he was trying to fill the void left by the brother Wilhelm was separated from when he was pulled from his world to this one. Kell didn't need much to realize how important Eric is for Wilhelm. How much his absence hurts the young prince.
Even at his most selfish, Kell wouldn't have dared to think he could replace Wilhelm's older brother. That he could even occupy a similar place. But he feels strangely protective of him anyway. Ever since that botched spell in the forest of Lunae. Even more so after the horrors the Acolytes had put them through.
It's strange. They don't even have all that much in common. Yet, there's something in Wilhelm that makes him care. Kell doesn't really know what it is, or who he wants to be to Wilhelm. What drives him to go to such lengths - to make an utter fool of himself - only to wrangle a smile from this sad, stressed boy. It's not what he'd usually do, it doesn't make any sense, and yet it's there.
He finds them a nice, sunny patch of grass with a good view of the rest of the park, but obscured a bit by an assortment of bushes. The arrangement seems to be ornamental, and Kell doesn't know if they're allowed to sit there. He also doesn't care. It's a good spot, and if someone wants to make objections they will have to come and tell him in person. Until then, he's going to assume they have all the right to lounge where they choose.]
Here. It's perfect.
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They haven't talked about what happened in the pit. They don't need to. They'd lived it, and that was enough. Whether the Acolytes poisoned your brain or not, they all became different people down there. For his part, Wilhelm remembers less the man he'd screamed at hysterically, and more the man who'd pulled him along when the rock started raining down.
He plops himself down in the grass that Kell has chosen as their spot, stretching his legs out and tilting his face toward the sun. He doesn't take that for granted anymore either.]
You realize you picked, like, the worst dessert to eat with your hands, right?
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Saints, he's right. They'll have crumbs all over themselves by the end of this. It takes him a longer while to calm down.]
I... did not think this through.
[He grins. Who care anyway. It's not like they an audience to attend. It's a park, they don't need to look presentable. Besides, what kind of delinquents would it make of them if they did?]
But look, at least there's no whipped cream involved like in some of those truly fancy desserts. We'll be fine.
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Who let us plan anything?
[Well, it was all Kell's idea, but Wilhelm will share in the blame anyway. It's more fun to be a conspirator. Now he actually tries a bite of the cheesecake, and though the flaky crust starts to fall apart in his hands, it's good.]
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[He waggles his eyebrows in a way that's already comical for people with normal eyes, but looks downright farcical for someone with mismatched ones, like his. Like a circus act. Entirely as it's supposed to look. For all his brooding persona, Kell prizes himself for always being able to make Rhy laugh. He can make Wilhelm laugh too. Now that Wille managed to do his act on him first.]
What kind of delinquents would it make of us if we required a permission?
[At least he's decent enough not to talk with his mouth full as he gorges half of his cake in one bite.]
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I refuse to believe that you're the responsible one.
[He takes another bite. The best strategy is to finish in as few bites as possible in order to minimize the mess.]
Does that mean Rhy was the troublemaker?
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Believe what you will. I really am.
[Kell's smile turns from mischievous to genuine, almost wistful. He'd been so angry at Rhy so often, and yet looking through his memories now, he misses those moments. Those were the good times. When they still were able to get into trouble and cause no more damage than a broken window, a couple of broken chairs and a few broken bones.
Bad dog. Rhy called him once when he'd just tipped the chair under a drunkard who spoke ill of the heir to the throne, blissfully unaware said heir and his brother are there, listening.]
Mostly. The things he got us into were usually his ideas.
[Key word: usually. He can't, in good faith, pin it all on Rhy.]
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It just makes Kell very lucky, that he can make new memories with his brother too.
Wilhelm doesn't want to dwell on that, or the fact that he's coming up on a year here, which also means that he's coming up on a year without Erik. It doesn't seem real. He covers up the shadow that crosses his face with a smile.]
Yeah, like what?
[With that, he finishes the cheesecake. All that's left is the crumbs all over his fingers.]
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Kell smiles. He snaps his fingers. It turns his usual black coat into a ripped and dirty jacket stained with soil and soot, darkens and weathers his pants and boots. A poor man's clothes. The thing underneath doesn't change. It's just an illusion, a little trick or air and light.
"Because Rhy wouldn't get caught dead wearing something like this. Never would have sacrificed looking good for believability, and always insisted on keeping all his jewellery."
Kell lets out a sigh, a call out to those many times when he tried - and failed spectacularly each time - to convince Rhy to be a little less conspicuous.
"No matter how many times I told him, he'd look as beautiful in more modest clothing, and will be a lot safer looking less obviously wealthy, he never listened. He loved coming up with all those ridiculous disguises. We did get robbed a couple of times, threatened and beaten. It didn't change his mind. I think he liked the risk element involved. Knowing I would never let him get seriously hurt."
Because that was the truth. Even when they were children, Rhy could test the limits of how far Kell would let him push, but he knew he'd never be in any serious danger. Kell could get annoyed, he'd complain all the way, but as soon as he decided things go in the wrong direction, he intervened. Most of the time, all he had to do is reveal who he really was. And watch grown up men flee with a genuine dread in their eyes from one spoiled princeling and one feral creature that protected him. It took Kell time, and no small amount of chastising from Tieren, to stop going all out with his magic in those moments. This part was always his fun part in their illicit outings. He liked the feeling of power. He liked seeing adults fear him. Same adults that would otherwise laugh at him and mistreat him because he looked different from basically everyone in the city. Scrawny, pale and foreign. Tieren had really tough job convincing him to reign his impulses in, but even the guards knew Rhy is safer with him than he'd ever be with them.
Kell snaps his fingers once again to make the illusion dissolve and he's back in his regular Thornean clothes.
"We got in trouble a lot."
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So even Rhy, who takes his duty so seriously, who would not lay down that weight willingly, feels that way sometimes.
"I would've been right there with you." Flipping his hair back, he affects a look of innocence that is highly suspect. "Can you believe that I've been thrown out of a club for getting in a fight before?"
Not his finest moment. His mother had been steel forged in fury. His father, quietly and distantly disappointed. The tabloids had pounced on his fuck up and inflated it into a whole narrative of an out-of-control prince addicted to partying. Enough time has passed now, though, that he can squash it down into a funny anecdote.
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"I bet you would, and I would have dragged both of your asses out of anything that would look too dicey, no matter the complaining."
Kell raises an eyebrow in open disbelief to Wilhelm's innocence act, but then follows along clutching his chest with a mock gasp.
"You? No way."
He's also absolutely awful at keeping a straight face so can't hold it for too long and just bursts into laughter bare minutes later.
"Of course I do. That's just the thing I'd imagine you getting caught at."
It's also something he often intervened at when Rhy got in trouble. It's eerie how Wille reminds him of Rhy at the most unexpected moments.
"What was it about?"
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