This Already Has Me Emo - Tumblr Posts

with every court held, rhysand forced to observe, ( take in information, learn the ropes, nothing more ) he's reminded just how dull these political meetings can be. only finding amusement when words get heated, emotions rising ... if he's lucky, a fight breaks out & captures his attention once more, though that seems to be few & far between, lately. things have been quiet, a good sign. a mark of peace, finally, in prythian. though his father has shown his doubts on how long that will last.

strengthening their allyships, he supposes, is the reason for inviting the other courts to their celebration of starfall. while he should be cementing friendships with the elder brothers of the spring court — their behavior reminds him of those at the illyrian camps when he was younger, having to defend & prove he was more than just a half - breed. tyrants targeting those they thought beneath them.

perhaps that's why he always seeks out the youngest of the brothers at these gatherings — he sees his friends in him ... has unspoken sympathy for him, what his family puts him through. whether his presence is appreciated, or not. rhysand doesn't care, only wishing to offer him support. their friendship that blossomed with it was an added, unexpected bonus.

this day is no different, rhysand finding tamlin after exchanging pleasantries with everyone he was supposed to. he appears from the shadows, watching the other lost in his own world. wordlessly, he takes a seat, a smile dancing upon his features — imagining the melody he'd be strumming if he could.

gaze flickers toward the sky, spirits twinkling & shooting across the horizon, a sight he'd never lack appreciation for. contemplating the question with a hum, he'd never give it much thought. the thought of ever finding a mate, at this point, is shut out from his mind. why would he ever put another through this life? perhaps this is why he enjoyed tamlin's presence. his guard lowers: any of the politics, the scheming, the formalities are forgotten. they are allowed to just be.

" my mother seems to think so. " a small shrug, watching another star brightly whirl around, followed by another. to have that love ... he knows he doesn't deserve. his head lowers, to look at tamlin, taking in the softness in his features, reading each thought as if they'd appeared on his face. his tone switches, to something more teasing, an attempt to lighten the other's mood. " why, dear tamlin? don't tell me you're feeling lonely. do we have to take you to the nearest brothel? "

it is not easy to make friends, marked as they were, set apart and labelled for a future they didn't ask for. the accident of birth unfair to say the least. to endure such scrutiny of being first born, tamlin does not like to dwell. though older brothers are a particular type of gruesome punishment, he cannot help but be glad for the insulation provided between his and their exacting father. he will never be high lord, but he will always be the high lord’s son.

in some ways, tamlin understands the younger of the night court siblings. the sister with too canny eyes and too clever a mouth. but it is rhysand he finds himself thrown together with, after meetings, at events, the courtiers to machinate them together. to see if conflict or friendship blooms.

such courtly event is where tamlin finds himself, absent from the spring court on the longest day of the year — he watches the sky alight with splotches of irridescent glowing orbs cascading to — somewhere. he’s never been one for philosophy or history, he has no investment in the religions that different courts hold. his god is music and he has been its humble servant.

that is why, fingers play a silent melody on invisibly strings. he knows the sounds this would make, knows the roaring in his ears as he loses track of his surroundings would be cause for reproach, but it is not until he notices his vision dimming that he’s drawn from his reverie. the heir approaches.

a quiet nod of acknowledgement, fingers withdrawn from the bannister he’d been imagining as an instrument, fists now at his side.

‘ rhysand — ‘

what else is there to say? he’s been sent as diplomat and instead of doing anything regarding diplomacy, or what he suspects his father really desired, intelligence gathering, he has composed a symphony that his fingers itch to transcribe to music.

eyes glance back out to the cascading souls, two merging and half entwined as they fall. he catches rhysand following the same with his gaze. and tamlin ventures at last — something beyond merely a name.

‘ do you think, that if you’re mates — you will follow each other, even into death and beyond? to — wherever these souls go? ‘

he does not like the quietness that has filled his voice, he does not think he will have a mate. he is not powerful like his siblings, his time spent either in the villages and outlying areas playing music, or traipsing in his beastly form. but sometimes, when he watches two immortal souls fall from the great above to the great below. he wonders what it would be like to be loved like that. to be allowed to be so selfish that you would choose that person above all. to damn anyone but them. to damn yourself, for them.

tamlin && rhysand starter // @rhysie