S
Salt
Guest
Original poster
Nicodemus stood silently, eyes cast out to observe the now setting sun to the west. He was standing on a terrace fashioned out of marble, and was leaning as far forward that was allocated without him falling and ultimately plunging to his demise. Even so, his feet were slipped between the pillars that supported the railing, as a mere safety measure if he were to take a tumble, accidental or not. He might do it just for the thrill of it, things were always fun if the possibility of dying were present. That was one of Nico's very, very secret pleasures. He was a thrill seeker. Yes, Nicodemus Zosimos, the son of the previous Guardian and Prince that took place in the Binding of the Heart tradition, Nicodemus Zosimos, the son widely known for being an introverted emotionless husk of a man. There's a reason it's a well-kept secret. So well-kept, in fact, that he's the only one who knows it! Well, unless you count his bird.
The setting sun his gaze was fixated on was the setting sun that marked the night before the next cycle. The next ceremony. The next tradition. His mother was dead and now it was time for the sentient magic that dwelled inside her to find it's new host, and during the same tradition, it was time for Nico's future wife to be announced. He cursed the magic inside, upset that it was merely using his mother as a host, and that it would select whom Nico would be bound to for the rest of his life. He felt sad at the same time, that is first-born son would have to befall the same fate he was now.
At least it was Green. Green had always been one of his favorite colors as he was growing up, being replaced only once as he grew up, by the color Maroon. So at least it still stayed in his top three rankings. If anything, he would at least admire the color of his future wife's hair. This sent him on a tangent of thoughts, each one leading to him wondering what she'd be like, and if they'd even be compatible.
That last thought received an audible scoff from him. As if anybody was compatible with him, he hated nearly everybody. Those he did like were treated with a sort of formal respect and that was it, Nico had never even truly loved a person. He wasn't even sure if he had loved his parents, because love and it's many forms, were foreign concepts to him. They still are foreign concepts to him. He cannot fathom feeling that way for somebody, and so, in a way, he hopes that love does not blossom between him and the woman he is bound to, to prevent the tradition from carrying on.
But he knows even that is impossible, because love-riddled or not, it is required he bear children with the Guardian, as many times as required until a son is born. He scowled at the thought, of making love without truly being in love. Even if he hadn't experienced yet, even if he hadn't fully understood it yet, he knew he was going to have a hard time providing offspring without being in love.
He leaned forward more, feet catching the pillars and keeping him rooted to whatever safety he had left. He considered unanchoring himself for a split second, questioning the thrill of free-fall. That would be an easy way to prevent the tradition, killing off the only son of the previous prince. Then who would they marry off? Probably his father once more, and the thought of his father marrying just a teenage girl made him hoist himself back over and stand up straight.
"Not a long enough fall anyway..." He muttered bitterly, to nobody in particular. In fact, if one were to be observing, they would have simply thought he were talking to the sun like a crazy person, for his gaze was still fixed on the sliver that had yet to sink below the horizon. Evening twilight had begun to set in, dusk inching it's way into effect. His thought fleeted with the sunlight, and as the last of it sank below the horizon, so did his worries about the following morning into the dark recesses of his mind.
He stood still for about ten minutes, just staring empty headed at the horizon before deciding to turn tail and head off the terrace and into his room, swiftly taking off his shirt and throwing it to the floor. He tipped forward, letting gravity take it's hold on him and force him into his bed, hands clutching the blankets and pulling them towards his chest as he curled up into a ball, head nuzzling into the pillow. He lay for what seemed like an eternity, slowly slipping off into sleep. And when he finally did, a single tear promptly ran down his cheek and soaked into his pillow as his thoughts slipped into unconsciousness and he began to dream about his mother.
The setting sun his gaze was fixated on was the setting sun that marked the night before the next cycle. The next ceremony. The next tradition. His mother was dead and now it was time for the sentient magic that dwelled inside her to find it's new host, and during the same tradition, it was time for Nico's future wife to be announced. He cursed the magic inside, upset that it was merely using his mother as a host, and that it would select whom Nico would be bound to for the rest of his life. He felt sad at the same time, that is first-born son would have to befall the same fate he was now.
At least it was Green. Green had always been one of his favorite colors as he was growing up, being replaced only once as he grew up, by the color Maroon. So at least it still stayed in his top three rankings. If anything, he would at least admire the color of his future wife's hair. This sent him on a tangent of thoughts, each one leading to him wondering what she'd be like, and if they'd even be compatible.
That last thought received an audible scoff from him. As if anybody was compatible with him, he hated nearly everybody. Those he did like were treated with a sort of formal respect and that was it, Nico had never even truly loved a person. He wasn't even sure if he had loved his parents, because love and it's many forms, were foreign concepts to him. They still are foreign concepts to him. He cannot fathom feeling that way for somebody, and so, in a way, he hopes that love does not blossom between him and the woman he is bound to, to prevent the tradition from carrying on.
But he knows even that is impossible, because love-riddled or not, it is required he bear children with the Guardian, as many times as required until a son is born. He scowled at the thought, of making love without truly being in love. Even if he hadn't experienced yet, even if he hadn't fully understood it yet, he knew he was going to have a hard time providing offspring without being in love.
He leaned forward more, feet catching the pillars and keeping him rooted to whatever safety he had left. He considered unanchoring himself for a split second, questioning the thrill of free-fall. That would be an easy way to prevent the tradition, killing off the only son of the previous prince. Then who would they marry off? Probably his father once more, and the thought of his father marrying just a teenage girl made him hoist himself back over and stand up straight.
"Not a long enough fall anyway..." He muttered bitterly, to nobody in particular. In fact, if one were to be observing, they would have simply thought he were talking to the sun like a crazy person, for his gaze was still fixed on the sliver that had yet to sink below the horizon. Evening twilight had begun to set in, dusk inching it's way into effect. His thought fleeted with the sunlight, and as the last of it sank below the horizon, so did his worries about the following morning into the dark recesses of his mind.
He stood still for about ten minutes, just staring empty headed at the horizon before deciding to turn tail and head off the terrace and into his room, swiftly taking off his shirt and throwing it to the floor. He tipped forward, letting gravity take it's hold on him and force him into his bed, hands clutching the blankets and pulling them towards his chest as he curled up into a ball, head nuzzling into the pillow. He lay for what seemed like an eternity, slowly slipping off into sleep. And when he finally did, a single tear promptly ran down his cheek and soaked into his pillow as his thoughts slipped into unconsciousness and he began to dream about his mother.
