Fantasy Bound - closed!

[mochi bun]

Lorenzo Pherveld
A fat drop of rain was the first sensation that Lorenzo awoke to that morning. Eyes cracking open, he stared up into the cloudy skies. His head was pounding, his pulse thudding in his ears and through the vein near his temple. His tongue tasted chapped lips as he shifted, recognizing the feel of cold stone underneath him. His gaze drifted, gloved hands drifting over the ground. Lorenzo eyed where he laid. Somehow, in the midst of his drinking the night before, he had found his way to the alleyway behind the bar. His hand ventured to his breast pocket, searching until his fingers drifted over the remnants of a small tube. His tense muscles eased before he groaned, shutting his eyes and rolling into the crook of his elbow. Another drop of rain made him glance to the skies, mouth twisting down into a frown. Brows furrowed, he grumbled to himself. He wanted to go back to sleep... but the weather had other plans as the skies cracked open and water came pouring from the sky.

Scrambling to his feet, Lorenzo swayed at the dizziness that filled his head. Cautiousness should have been heeded; he had drank too much and was now suffering the consequences of his escapades. Lorenzo turned his head, sniffing his cape before lurching away. He had definitely been sick... his clothes were in need of a wash anyway. A sigh tumbled past his lips as he fixed his clothes. Deft fingers buttoned his tunic, tightened the sash on his waist, laced his boots properly. When the man felt half-presentable, he straightened from where he had crouched to tie his laces. The sudden burn on his wrist made him scrunch his eyes shut, a hiss leaving his grit teeth. Ripping his sleeve upwards, he stared down at the brand on his wrist. The sigil of the kingdom glowed omber under his gaze. Recognizing his summoning, Lorenzo sighed to himself. His fingers moved as he bent, circling his heart before he pressed against the brand.

The light that enveloped him was blinding. In another moment, he was gone. The rush of air deafened him until he felt solid ground beneath his feet. Lurching where he stood, he took a moment to himself. Dark eyes swept up, taking in his surroundings. A cauldron brewed in the fireplace, the smell of thick stew filling the air. A gurgle from his stomach made Lorenzo huff. His eyes took in the other artifacts in the room; a barren desk, a small collection of tomes, various scrolls stockpiled along one of the walls. A huge multi-colored glass window overlooked a courtyard, filled to the brim with exotic flowers. One last glance was taken before he moved to the window, arms crossing as he took in the view. He reasoned with himself that he would go find whoever had summoned him- after he had cleaned himself up and stolen some of the stew.

​

 

[mourning star]

orion eyto

in the castle

✧ - ✧ - ✧ - ✧ - ✧ - ✧ ---- ✧ - ✧ - ✧ - ✧ - ✧ - ✧

Orion hated his studies. Every morning he woke at dawn, hurrying to collect his scrolls before he was expected to walk to the library for hours spent there with his tutor. The routine was old to him. It lacked excitement– didn't hold the same enjoyment it had when he was a boy. Most princes could have conquered this obstacle. Orion knew he had citizens counting on him... even if he was forth in line for the throne. Still, he wished there was some other task he was forced to endure. Sighing, his eyes drifted to the window. He couldn't help but to stare down at the gardens below. Spring was finally appearing in their kingdom. Winter had been vicious– and now with the dawning on a new season, the whole country was celebrating the shift with festivals.

A blurred shape startled Orion from his daydream. Focusing on his desk, he noticed the flat end of a blade pressed to the corner of his book. A flush spread across his cheeks as his gaze slowly drifted upwards. A severe face with more wrinkles than smooth skin peered down on him, mouth pursed in a tight expression. Attempting to smile, Orion sank lower as the old military commander slapped his book once more with his dagger.

"Focus."

Orion nodded. Turning his attention once more to his books, he spent the rest of the morning focused on his studies. Halfway through his English lesson, the sky opened up and a steady rhythm of rain began. Casting quick glances out the window, he watched as the rain splattered against the glass and tumbled down in a horizon stream. It reminded him of the coast he would visit in the summertime– where he was able to spend two weeks without his studies or the constant pressure he felt over his duties as the prince. When his tutor dismissed him that day, Orion was already bowing and strutting through the doors. A pleased sigh left his lips as he made his way down the halls, away from his books and back towards his room.

However, the prince suddenly paused. His hand was hovering over the locket at his throat. His expression was uncertain but after another moment, he was grasping the locket and pressing it to his mouth. He whispered something– too quiet to hear over the rain– before he let the chain fall. Turning back the way he came, Orion took a side hallway that led to one of the old storage rooms. He had been expecting someone... from the noises beyond the door he had pressed himself to, his guest had already arrived. Reaching for the handle, Orion knocked.

code by @pasta​