ＯＵＴ ＯＦ ＬＵＸ discussion
newest »
❝ 𝓣𝓪𝓶𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓚𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓷 𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝔂 ❞
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Lucke Arichives --> Winter Solstice Gala, Age: 19
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Heat burned beneath Tamrion's skin, and his fingers tightened around the thin paper of his cigarette as he exhaled, blowing out a puff of smoke. His hands shook as he slammed the book shut, dust escaping in a poof, mingling with the ashy air he'd created only second ago.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Nothing. There was nothing. He had finished going through as many history books on the Seavey family as he could--all records, all accounts, tracing back generations, and not once had he found a record of a patriarch living past fifty. He had then taken himself to the Lucke museum, threw his weight around to gain access to the archives. Nothing, no mention of how to break curses like these. The Delacroixs and Grimcrofts--whoever they are--may have answers he needed, being skilled mages, but even then, he doubted it. Maybe that Andre bloke was old enough to know some way to break a curse, but if that was the case, Father already would have tried it, right?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He had not allowed himself to feel that fear until now. Had only acknowledged it in bits, chipping away at his sense of self and his stability, but now, it curled to ice in his veins, giving way of the burning stab of rage. He was handsome, talented, and he wasn't going to live to even be sixty. Weakness, pathetic. He could just hear the laughter of his enemies now.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀With a shout, he shoved the books off the desk. Papers slipped, ink spilled, and he didn't give a shit about the damage he had done to the beautiful velvet carpets of the archives. Damn Luckes could clean that crap up themselves, lowly group of "nobility" that they were. Just another twisted family like the Haydens, adopting their commoner children and tainting their blood. Disgust pinched through him, and Tam slammed a fist onto the desk, chest heaving.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Die, die, die, he was going to die in his prime and there was nothing he could fucking do about it. Next to him, some of the ash from his tray had spilled across the lacquered wood, and with a streak of hate blooming hot in his heart, he smeared it with his finger, digging the dust into the crooks and crannies. What the fuck was left to do? Beg the scientists and doctors to look into his blood, and Father's? See if they could figure out just what exactly was impacting the patriarchs?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He--
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"They told me you were down here. What are you doing, still searching for a cure to that curse?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Well, wonderful. Tamrion closed his eyes, stomach hot, blood thudding with a rush of anger, chest tight. A muscle in his jaw twitched, while his shirt strained against the others in his back and shoulders. "Why did you follow me, Alianna?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her light steps hit his ears a split second before her smell: strawberries with a hint of peppermint, something almost chemical, lethal, that never failed to, somehow, bring Tamrion's toes to a tingle. This woman was his future wife, and his best friend, if he even had such a thing. Still, they understood one another on a level that, sadly, most people did not anymore--the need to drive power and family up beyond all else.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Because I knew you'd be working yourself into absolute exhaustion," she replied, and Tamrion grimaced when her slender hand grasped his shoulder, her long, crimson nails polished to an utter perfection.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Grunt turning into a snarl, skin prickling, Tam shoved her off his shoulder. "Watch it," he snapped. "And yes, I am still searching for a cure, or, I was, but all this fucking crap came up empty and dry, okay, so lucky you, I'm going to die at fifty and you'll be left with all the fucking newspaper influence you want and a whole bunch of heirs to raise."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"You know the importance of heirs," Alianna scolded, and Tamrion hissed, slamming the end of his cigarette into the ashtray with a jerk.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"No shit, but I--I cannot just--perish--at fifty. That is humiliating when I have done nothing but cultivate a presence for myself and my family." The thought of it, just dying like a loser at fifty? When Alianna would outlive him, when everyone he knew would outlive him? And what would the death be, a heart attack? A seizure in which he slammed his head against a wall and never woke up? A sudden drop dead? Would it hurt? And how is it fair that I die at fifty when the asses like the Luckes live for ever?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hatred surged through his veins and he spun to face Alianna, as usual, pristine in a silken gown the glitzy colors of the wealthiest noble family in Voxthain--scarlet and gold. Tam's fingers itched--not to touch her, but to grasp that wealth from her, the luxury items and gemstones her father traded in, owned. Even in the dim lighting of the archives, the straps of her gown, cut diamond and beads of almost pure gold, glistened, while the rubies at her throat shone as if someone had slit her delicate neck.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It didn't help that his entire situation, his whole future, had been set adrift a few days ago when he went to work only to find a cold, impersonal letter, that he had been dishonorably discharged from the militia. When he had demanded to speak with Commander Hayden about why--because how darethat lowborn-lover remove him, Tamrion Seavey, of all people, she had simply demanded he leave before she make him leave, eyes cold steel. Said that he was unfit and had had enough incidents of fighting and not listening to his superiors, and that he was throwing his status around and abusing his power, harming innocent people.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Which was utterly insane. He had been taught the lowborn masses were problematic, and he was just teaching them a lesson. And fine, so he had maybe been beating up some pre-teens. So what? They had been pickpocketing a noble, and they had to learn that wasn't okay. Twisting a few arms was well within his rights, but he had been stopped by the fuck-ass Investigator, the Commander's pity project who, in his mind, should have died wherever the fuck she had come from, which wasn't even Valoran. Fucking waste of space, honestly.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Caledonia Hayden had gotten him fired, and he was waiting for a chance to show her how wrong she was for crossing him. That was his job, stopping thieves, and she just--beat him up instead of the kids? He'd never understood her, but then again, people with dirt for blood were never as intelligent as people like the Seaveys.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Then I don't know what to tell you." Alianna's voice interrupted his swirling thoughts of red. "But my darling cousins are hosting the Winter Solstice ball tonight, and you look ill. Shape up, come on, we have an hour and that is not nearly enough time for you to pull yourself together, but it has to be. Now." Snapping those nails, blue eyes narrowed as she stared at him, Alianna raised her brows.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Fine. I'm coming, but stop treating me like a damn dog."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Then don't make me have to fetch you. This archive-library shit reeks of dust and makes my eyes water." A small cough escaped Alianna's throat, and Tam fought the urge to tell her she deserved it for coming down here in the first place, but he said nothing. He, too, was down here, but maybe years of smoking shit and drinking when he wasn't supposed to made him immune to dust or other shit floating through the air? Who the hell knew.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Not bothering to pick up after himself, Tamrion stood up. The fucking Luckes were supposed to have all the answers, but instead, their history books had turned up with absolutely no information about the Seavey family curse. In the back of his mind, he knew it had been a long shot, but his anger, his rage, had to be directed somewhere, and it certainly wasn't Father's fault, was it? Surely, he had tried to find a way to escape this, too. Desperation curled like the shadowfog inside his chest, tugging with claws and swirls of darkness inside his mind. Failures, he thought, and kicked the precious manuscripts under the desk. Let some hapless servant be of use for once. Or the Lucke daughters, commoners both.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But as he stood, he grimaced, pressing a hand against his side as a shoot of pain arched up through his ribs. Fuck. Lids flickering closed briefly, Tamrion took a steadying breath, as well as he possibly could. He'd seen a healer for the broken rib--and the busted nose and swollen eye--but none of that changed the fact it was a dig to his pride, nor the resounding small pang of pain, ghost of remembrance brushing like a breeze over his bone.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Did you not get yourself healed?" Alianna's sharp voice pierced the darkness of the library, and with smearing, chocolate eyes, Tamrion's gaze cut to her, lips twisting into a snarl.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"What do you think?" He spat, and she huffed and moved aside and fell in next to him as they began to leave the stuffy library behind them. "Of course I did, but--"
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Alianna's small, freckled nose twitched, as if she were a rabbit. "Honestly, Tam, you need to get better at that, at actually throwing punches. Is that another reason you're hiding down here? Oh, Lantas, you wanted to skip the gala tonight, didn't you?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Tamrion's pale face flushed, heat crawling up through his cheeks and into his ears, turning his skin from some oatmeal shade into a crimson rose. His fist clenched tighter around the now-almost-unlit cigarette, and he jerked it to his lips to take a drag, hate and anger churning, dark and sharp, inside him. Dying at fifty, shown up by a fucking commoner woman, lost his job, set out to drown and die because of the nature of his birth, no hope for him, and now at the gala--shame and rage stole his breath, ribs constructing, and Tamrion turned to Alianna, blowing smoke out just before meeting her eyes.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her eyes went icy as she waved her polished hand before her face, backing up. "Stop it," she snapped. "That stuff is vile. Now, what are you looking at me for?"
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Let's skip the gala."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A laugh barked from the Calico heir's throat, and she shook her head once, sending her coiffed blonde curls bouncing. "Absolutely not. I happen to enjoy them, and so do you."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"No. I--" Pressing his lips together, Tam shook his head. "She fucked me up in Clocktower Square, and do you know how much Father had to bribe our journalists to turn that story in my favor? Obviously, I did no wrong, but the journalists didn't see it that way. Oh, and news travels fast, I don't feel like going into a gala where everyone knows I lost my job."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Alianna snorted, reaching the door and clasping her hands before her. With an eye roll, Tamrion opened it for her with a dramatic bow, and she smirked and brushed past him.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Of course she didn't want to get her hands dirty and demean herself by pushing a door open when she didn't have to. Honestly, Tam understood that, and part of him believed she should have held it open for him, but he knew Alianna, and that she absolutely would never do such a thing. Despite her work with potions and sciences, getting her nails and fingers stained with the blood of the people she killed. Truly, quite an impressive wife he was going to have, a--wait. No. Tamrion frowned, exhaling, and turned as the bitter cold of winter blew across his face, tousling his curls.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Emptiness. No Alianna, nothing, just--swirling flakes of snow dusting the ground, lamps lit with glistening magic. Tamrion growled, shaking his head, as if his mind was about to crack open. No, she left you. Two years ago, he reminded himself, and he tightened his grip on the cigarette as the door slammed shut behind him. She abandoned him, and now, when he needed her the most--what another wonderful fucking failure, his fiancée ran away, had not even told him, leaving him without a possibility for heirs, for marriage, and the Seavey line, the weight of his entire family's future, lay on his shoulders.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Hate cinched his chest until he felt he couldn't breathe, only his lungs warm as the rest of him went icy with the snow. It had always gone like this--when he couldn't handle just how much fear and pain he was in, he consumed a hallucination potion, and at least he had Alianna here for a bit. But when it wore off, when he remembered just how badly she had betrayed him...it boiled in the pit of his stomach, and he removed the glass bottle from his pocket and threw it, watching as it caught the light of the lamps and shattered in a million glistening pieces. Fuck you.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She'd left him, and he'd have to see her stupid family at the gala, see his own father's disapproving glare--well, okay, maybe his father wasn't that angry at him, he had spread the story Tamrion rightfully left the militia, after all--but still, he had been heaped with too much humiliation and mistreatment over the years. He deserved better, and the people who had done this to him would pay. Well, okay, some of them. If he ever saw Alianna again--bitch.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀No. He had to go to this gala, keep his chin lifted, pretend nothing was wrong. He didn't care his would-be marriage had fallen apart. He didn't care he'd lost his job. He didn't care he only had another roughly thirty years to live and there was no hope, not at all, he was perfectly fine, just...pride. Power. That was what he had to do, as a Seavey. His pathetic siblings surely did not exude that, least of all Matthias and Theodore, so he had to be the one to carry that weight, too. Not the disappointment, not the delinquent. Just him, only him.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Straightening his shoulders, Tamrion stormed off towards the estate. The useless servants had better have his best suit pulled out for tonight, or there were going to be problems.
----
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Tamrion hated the slush coating the ground. Snow and cold weather had his nose stinging, and honestly, slipping inside the Delacroixs cold estate did not do much to ease that sensation. Too much silver everywhere, too much coldness, too much black. It left his spine tingling, reminiscent of the disgusting weather outside. Not that he liked the summer galas either, especially now when Alianna had left him, but at least then the summer nights were more temperate than the sweltering days, versus the winter nights just getting colder as the sun vanished. Not that any of it would matter when he hit fifty. He'd die. Just like his father would soon, just like his grandfather, just like--any son he may have.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Ha ha, no, wait, that was funny. He'd never have a son. Alianna had left like the bitch he knew she was. It had always been perfect--the two of them, knowing their worth and that of their blood. He knew what she did behind closed doors, and he did not give a shit. But he had never expected her to one day turn that attitude on him, leaving him hanging. Except, really, he mused, it wasn't fully her fault. The people had not voted her in on Council. It was Hayden's fault. Just like the loss of his job, like the recent humiliation of having to turn in his weapons, his badge, his rank, all of it. He couldn't even think back to it without making his blood hiss and sputter.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀But, as he walked into the ballroom, done up and as perfect as he could--hair slicked back, dark eyes lined in black, a polished suit with a Seavey brooch and a yellow and gold cape of his family colors behind him--at least he was warm inside. He needed it to get through tonight, because only days ago had he lost his job, had everyone seen him get fucked in Clocktower Square. His anger remained inside him at a boil, and he stepped back and took another swig of the spiced wine he had pilfered from the kitchens before he left. That, and his cigar, from one of his most ornate boxes lined with gold and silver, dangled between his fingers.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Tamrion scanned the room. People were talking, music swelled at a crescendo, couples already mid-dance because, yes, Tamrion was late, and no, he did not give a fuck that it was rude. The Delacroixs--and his father--could deal. Yes, he needed to be punctual, but to be fair, people kept screwing him over the past few years, and finding no way to break that curse...what did it matter what his reputation was when he was going to die? No, screw it, he cared, just not about being on time when his parents already were. It was fine.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He staggered towards the dance floor, keeping his face forward, but his eyes scanning the room. Lights glistened, strung around the room, and the food table caught his eye, the smell of spices and apples wafting from it and making his stomach rumble. The drinks, too, had his mouth salivating, as servants passed through the nobles with platters of empty glasses, full glasses of white and red wines and champagnes. He snatched one from a passing servant and dunked the whole thing back, the drink stinging as it went down, but it was nothing Tamrion wasn't used to. Taking a drag on his cigarette, he exhaled, the smoke warm across his face.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Who the hell was he to find? Some of his friends, probably, after grabbing some of that food, because he did not have the headspace to talk to anyone else, to--he froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just see her:Investigator Caledonia Hayden, clothed in a dark green militia coat, black and gold edging it, sleek black pants tucked into polished boots. Gloved hand placed on the hilt of a fucking ornate sword of all damn weapons, though a pistol sat next to it. He watched as she nodded at Commander Hayden and turned, beelining for the exit. Fast.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Oh no you don't. Tamrion's body seemed to move before he could process, a tunnel vision of red rage as the music and people fell behind him, out of sight and out of mind, except for her. His boots echoed across the floor, in time with the beat of his heart in his ears, as he stalked her through the gala, towards the door.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"You got me fired, you bitch," he hissed when they got to the double doors, the foyer, away from more prying eyes.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Caledonia whirled around, gun immediately withdrawn from her holster, the barrel aimed right at him. Her green eyes flashed before narrowing into slits. "What the hell, Seavey? Oh, wonderful, you're drunk and out of your damn mind. What is this about? You getting yourself fired? You were warned countless times, now move out of my way before I make you."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Flute of empty wine in one hand, cigarette in the other, Tamrion sneered, noting she didn't put the gun down yet. Something about her had shifted, he had noticed, in the past year. She'd always been cold, angry, but in the past year, since her father's arrest, she had become meaner.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"You make me? Before you make me?" He laughed, the sound raucous, hard, even to his own ears, but what did it matter? Humiliation stung, his cheeks turning rosy--she would make him move, as she had only days ago, and yet--he had lost everything. She had always been stronger than him, better than him, more skilled than him, and it had him burning inside. He should have been better, stronger, smarter, because he was the one with wealth in his veins, but instead he had been on thin ice with the militia for years, all because he had values of strength. Meanwhile the Haydens aimed to protect people who, Tam believed, were the problem in the first place. But she could move him, toss him backwards, and he could--
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The glass. Sweat stained his hand where he held the glass. His magic was not explosive, he did not have weapons on him any longer. But...rage spiraled, choking his lungs out, making breathing nearly impossible. Darkness settled heavily inside him, thick and writhing as the shadowfog, and Tamrion ran one thumb over the carved edges of the glass. Yes. This would be fun. Especially as she finally lowered the gun and slipped it back into his holster.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Yes, before I make you. You're drunk and smell like ash, and you're a disgrace to everyone who knows you. Get the fuck away from me."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Tamrion sneered. Before he could process anything, he threw the glass. It shattered, hitting her square in the face, and shouts and screams erupted across the room as the tunnel vision he had built up evaporated. Caledonia stumbled backwards, red exploding from her face as the glass cut into her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead. A sick sense of satisfaction rolled through Tamrion, and he barked out a dark laugh. He knew healers could take care of it, could get the glass out of her skin, but oh, it felt good to watch her be unable to open her eyes. To watch her grasp at her face, blood pouring from her between her fingers.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Fucking commoner bitch!" He screamed, stalking towards her. Fire. She hated fire--he had learned that much in militia training. It was one of the only times he had seen her freeze up during spars. Now, Tamrion reached over her, cigarette between his fingers, and stabbed the hot, burning end into the side of her neck, hate flowing through him. An almost inhuman scream burst from her bleeding lips, swelling Tamrion's heart. "You had no right to get me fired, you had no right. I'm your superior, I'm--"
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀One of her bloody hands grasped his wrist, her fingers shaking. The warm liquid smeared across his skin seconds before he began to feel his bones, his wrist through his arm, vibrating so fast, up through his shoulder, stopping dangerously close to his neck. A horrific burst of agony cracked through his bones, followed by a scream escaping his own lips, echoing through his head, the clanging of a bell from a tower.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He dropped the cigarette, taking pleasure when it slipped down her uniform, burning more of her skin, but Tam couldn't think, arm hanging awkwardly by his side, lights flashing white and bright spots of colors all across his eyes. He howled, unable to even move with the slightest twitch of his pinky without burning hot pain erupting from his arm, and slipped to his knees, cradling his shattered arm to his chest.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"Bitch!"
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀There was no response, save his own screams, because Lantas this was not good, it was not--the floor rumbled beneath him, shouts filling the room, but before the actual earthquake could hit harder and stronger, a blast of icy-cold air struck him, taking him off his feet and smacking his head against a wall. Tamrion's breath slammed out of his lungs, and he gaped, head cracking against the wall.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As soon as he hit the ground, someone grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. "Fuck you," Caledonia hissed, and a wad of blood smacked into his eye before her fist connected with his jaw, snapping it immediately. Before Tamrion could even struggle to take a breath, trying to grasp at his eye, to his jaw, a kick cracked his ribs, followed by another, and another.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It was only when shouting was heard behind the ringing in his ears, followed by someone pulling her off of him, that he finally gave into the darkness enclosing around his vision.
