HalfOfLancelot

These Happy Golden Years: A Complex Family Roleplay

woo! now time... to work... on another post. *cries*

These Happy Golden Years: A Complex Family Roleplay

Gabriel Carrington & Oliver Harris

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Funny, how the world works things out - maybe ‘works things out’ doesn’t describe the depth of intervention the universe plays at. Muck up? Fuck up? Just an all out mess of things when everything seemed right, even for just a moment. All the stars staring from their posts at the mired clutter just trying to get from one goal to the next in some Sisyphean feat. If stars could look smug from a billion light years away, Gabriel wouldn’t doubt their lights turned that pomp onto him. The blackness hanging over him felt abyssal and simultaneously lacking that emptiness between flickers of light. Even the moon seemed to mock him, full blown face a brightness that hurt his eyes in damp grass.

This wouldn’t work. Gabriel ran a hand over his face, like it’d wipe away the bags hanging under his eyes. His hands fumbled with the dials on his telescope, making a mess of the towel the tripod stood on. A clank resounded and the head of the telescope dropped to clang on the metal of one of the legs. Cursing, Gabriel shuffled to examine the glass, a microfibre towel at the ready. Just a few smudges this time, nothing broke or out of place. The relief sank palpable into his breath and released in a sigh while he continued packing.

Three days after he’d gotten the letter - just enough time to send him off his axis. Nothing felt quite right, like a picture he knew looked crooked, yet even if his perception caught on fast, his vision lagged perpetually behind. That off-kilter feeling only intensified in the coming days and this allotted trip wouldn’t rear its head for another few months. That meant more time for Gabriel to go out of his mind.

After scrambling all of the equipment into his jeep, Gabriel climbed into the lit up trunk to roll up the jeans on his right leg. He grabbed a clean rag from one of his bags and simply lost himself in mindless maintenance. Respite never came often and after these hellish hours, it lost even that frequency. Funny how the universe worked. “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” Gabriel muttered, barely feeling the tug on the brace that kept the prosthetic firmly attached to his leg. “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong,” he repeated, taken with the adage and like some Pavlov experiment, Gabriel simply waited for the other shoe to drop. For a mountain of shoes to drop.

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The soil felt cool between Oliver’s fingers, gritty and black, wiggling its way under his blunt fingernails and dirtying his slightly tanned hands. Not that he minded. He dug his fingers deep into the soil, breaking the surface, and pushed it aside. He did this repeatedly, beginning to create a shallow hole that turned into a deeper one. He got lost in the mindless task, focused solely on pushing dirt this way and that to achieve in making a hole. Allowing himself to squeeze soil between his fingers, to grip it hard and feel it, to let himself think on how this soil gave life to plants. If only humans could thrive in such a manner that appeared so simple; to just simply be, to just simply live without all the emotions and struggles attached to that. Oh, if only life could be that easy, then maybe Oliver wouldn’t be staring into a dark hole, his dirty fingers wiggling under soil, and wondering if he should come up with some overused metaphor that related the seemingly black hole to his life right now.

“Oliver, that hole is deep enough. And what have I told you about not wearing gloves and using the tools? Getting yourself filthy for no reason, tsk.” an elderly voice sounded from beside him, making him snap back into reality and look over at the source. A gentle, smiling face was staring at him, deep lines giving away the age, but eyes still bright and youthful, reflecting the type of person the face used to belong too.

Oliver cleared his throat a little, taking his fingers from the hole and rubbing his hands together to knock off the excess clinging to his skin. “Sorry, Ms. Moody. You know I’m stubborn.” he said with a slight smile in her direction; instead of saying he liked how the dirt felt between his fingers, liked having soil that gave life to something so simple held within his palms. While the stubborn bit was not a lie, even he could see that fault in himself, that wasn’t the whole truth, either.

Ms. Moody’s eyes lingered on Oliver’s face, as if she could feel there was more to the simple task, but then shook her head. “Go on, get cleaned up. You have to pack anyway, don’t you?” she asked, shifting her knees on the yoga pad she always used against the hard ground. She had to always remind Oliver, while throwing it down, that he had old, aching bones to look forward too.

Oliver sighed through his nose. “Yeah. Flight’s heading out tomorrow.” he murmured, reaching over to take the flower from Ms. Moody’s hands anyway, to gently place it into the hole. Just deep enough, he noticed as he began to pack soil around the roots, to steady the plant and keep it in the flower bed. “Just… a few more flowers, then I’ll go wash my hands like a good boy.” he promised, making sure the flower was firmly planted, and allowing himself to gently rub one of the petals, smearing dirt on the bright surface that’d be washed away later.

“Oh, fine.” Ms. Moody said with some amusement in her voice, turning back to her own spot in the flower bed, where she was busy planting the flowers in perfect distance from each other. “Just be sure to get some rest before your flight.” she said firmly, and Oliver simply hummed and nodded his acknowledgement of her words, as he moved over to begin digging another hole. Ms. Moody was quiet for all but four seconds before she asked, “Oliver, are you happy with Brad?”

Oliver froze at the unexpected question. Then again, when were questions like that ever expected? He knew he had been acting not that excitable but he had thought he was hiding his internal struggle a little better than that. Ms. Moody, however, had lived a long time, and she could almost always see through Oliver’s fake smiles. It was one reason he sometimes avoided her, making him feel extremely guilty. “Uh,” he said dumbly, beginning to move again as he shook himself mentally a little. He focused even harder on digging his fingers into the soil. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, giving a small laugh that sounded forced even to his own ears.

“Do you think I’m blind?” Ms. Moody asked with a scoff. “Or stupid? Usually people about to go on a vacation with their boyfriend of two years are a little more excited.” she pointed out, stabbing her trowel into the soil. “Aren’t you meeting his parents in Boston? Then heading to that nice cabin of your parents in Colorado? I don’t know, Oli, if I was having a vacation like that with someone I love, I wouldn’t be feeling so down in the dumps.”

Oliver grew quiet. He knew she was right. Of course she was. He had that thought himself. Why wasn’t he excited? He was more so… dreading, meeting Brad’s parents, and the guilt he felt over that was intense. Brad had met some of his family, it was only fair to go ahead and meet his parents, at the very least. “I’m just tired today. Overthinking meeting his parents. What if they don’t like me?” he deflected from the real issue and by Ms. Moody side-eyeing him, he knew she saw through it.

But instead of pushing him, she gave a soft sigh and reached over to squeeze his arm. “Just be yourself, because you’re such a good man, Oliver, and no matter what, don’t forget that.” she told him quietly and Oliver could only nod without looking at her, swallowing around the small lump growing in his throat. He wished he could believe that. He was relieved for the silence that followed the conversation, so he could focus solely on digging dark holes with his own fingers.

A few more holes and flowers later, and Oliver was threatened with a trowel as encouragement to go inside, clean up, and actually pack. It worked, because Ms. Moody could be a tough old bird, and Oliver wasn’t going to cross her path wrongly. The water turned dark with dirt, little clumps forming and slowly sliding down the drain, as Oliver kept his promise of washing his hands clean. He found himself scrubbing his blunt fingernails against his skin, going up to his wrist, before he made himself stop and stick to his hands. Washing away the evidence of what he had been doing for majority of his morning. A task that had kept him relaxed, for the most part, especially with Ms. Moody’s reminiscing of days long gone. Now, it was silent besides the running water, and that sound eventually ended once he was done rubbing his hands practically raw to get them clean and free of all the dirt.

Packing. That was what needed to be done next. But, he found himself lingering at the sink, staring out the little window above it, looking at nothing in particular. Boston. With Brad. To meet his parents. They haven’t even officially moved in together, instead hopping back and forth from each other’s places. Was this a good idea? He felt like something was coming to a head, like they were. Or, was he overthinking things again? Brad often told him he over-thought a lot of stuff. He guessed Brad was right. He was just thinking too much, as usual, letting his mind race and get away from him so it could conjure up the most ridiculous and darkest thoughts. He snorted a little, shaking his head and looking down. Stop freaking out, this’ll be good for both of you. he thought firmly as he pushed himself away from the sink. All right, packing.

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“I feel like I have to keep repeating this,” the click of a pen echoed in the room - felt like it had dropped. It continued clicking - click, click, click. A teetering pendulum, the sharp edges of Poe’s guillotine so tied to the laws of physics. A steady tick - tick - tick like a clock counting down the hours to an untimely death. The pit. The slab of cold so absent of heat it refused the warmth of the body strung to it.

Click - click - click

“-being that old and still not-”

“Excuse me,” Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, raking his vision away from the bookshelf, “can you quit that?”

“Quit wha-oh, I’m so sorry,” the therapist, a Dr. Cobb, threw the pen haphazardly onto the ornate mahogany next to him. Mahogany. Looked more worn - an heirloom. More likely a bargain with how carelessly treated it looked.

Gabriel’s eyes flicked to the clock fixated behind the man. It ticked noon and he stood. “Time’s up. I have to start packing. Sorry, doctor. Thanks again,” he rattled off, grabbing his briefcase and refusing to wait for the man’s rehearsed prompt before shutting the door behind him.

The ride home felt blank. Every building that passed remained a dull beat in the back of Gabriel’s mind. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and found himself handing the cab driver a twenty and shuffling out. Another squeeze and he smelled the faint aroma of sterility and overuse of pine sol for the crappy wood floor of his studio. He sighed, found himself staring at the bags he’d already packed the day before. A chill ran through him and he couldn’t quite explain the dread of staring at each bag like it’d personally scorned him.

“Right,” Gabriel mumbled and ran a hand through his hair. They bought him plane tickets. They didn’t know; he couldn’t blame them. A deep sigh tore through his throat, coming out shaky through his nose.

Too much time passed between leaving and now and far too much said and done, too. Unfortunately, he couldn’t look skyward for help, if anything, the universe gave him enough of a break. Gabriel had to look at this like a chance to make amends. Or something like that. Anything to make swallowing his fate a whole lot easier.

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Fold the corner over that corner, then fold the whole piece of paper in half again, and… that didn’t look like a bird at all. Instead, it looked like a paper that was folded multiple times without any true reason for it. Oliver should just give up on origami, but if he was anything, it was determined... that could be called stubborn more than anything. He’d learn to make this stupid swan before the end of this year, damnit. He turned the paper over in his hands, wondering where he went wrong, when his cell phone began vibrating on the desk beside him. It made him jump in surprise and he hesitated to pick it up when he saw it was his mom calling. But, he couldn’t just ignore her, possibly worry her, so he picked it up. “Hey mom!” he tried his best to sound cheery when he answered, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could keep fiddling with the piece of paper.

“Hi sweetie. How’s the vacation in Boston going? Were Brad’s parents nice? Did they like you? Did they-”

“Mom. I can’t answer fifty questions at once.” Oliver interrupted patiently, unfolding the piece of paper and staring at his opened ‘Easy Origami’ book, eyeing the directions for what felt like the millionth time on how to make a swan. Easy, my ass. he thought with a frown and narrowed eyes at the book, as if it was the book’s fault he couldn’t quite get a piece of paper to turn into a swan.

“Oh, sorry, sorry. I’m just so excited for you. Okay, one at a time. How’s the vacation going?” his mom sounded so happy for him, and Oliver lost focus on the page he was staring at. Could he tell her? Upset her? Or should he act like everything’s okay, wait until he’s home to tell her? But… he didn’t plan on being home for a long while.

“Uh. It’s going good. I mean, Boston wasn’t on the top of my list for vacation places, but I’m excited to go to Colorado. Hopefully I remember how to ski; kind of like riding a bike, right? You never forget.” he rambled slightly, not looking at the book any longer, but staring down at the crinkled piece of light pink paper. He just began to randomly fold it before unfolding it, just to give his fingers something to do.

Silence met him on the other end of the line, and he squeezed the paper a little, causing wrinkles. He began to smooth them out with his fingertips when his mom finally spoke. “Oliver. What happened?”

He almost groaned. Of course she’d be able to see through his false cheer. It wasn’t like he was trying very hard, either. He didn’t feel like trying very hard, still a little caught off guard from what had happened just a few hours ago. “Well… Brad, he… sort of broke up with me.” he said slowly, almost cringing at how the words sounded. Now that he spoke them out loud, it made it a little more real.

“What?!” his mom gasped. “Oh my God, Oli, really?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t be a real funny joke.” honestly, he had thought Brad had been joking when he first said he thought they should break up. Or rather, he had been hoping he had been joking. He knew he and Brad had their problems, but when he imagined talking to Brad about those things, imagined their future, he hadn’t quite imagined it turning out like it had now. With Brad losing it and pointing out all his faults, putting a lot of the blame for their failed relationship onto him, and leaving him alone in what was their shared hotel room. Oliver took that blame, too, because he did believe he was mostly at fault here. “Are you okay?”

“Am I-” his mother cut herself off and huffed. “Oliver. I am fine. What about you? How are you feeling?”

In all honesty, while he was really blindsided, he didn’t necessarily feel sad about it. He was more concerned over the fact he had spent money to stay a whole two weeks in Boston that would go to waste now. It wasn’t like he wanted to vacation in Boston; he only came here to meet Brad’s parents and… that hadn’t gone well at all. That train of thought made him feel bad. Obviously Brad was going through some of his own issues, feeling hurt over stuff Oliver hadn’t even realized, and all he could think about was wasted time and money. He almost cringed at his own thought process. He could feel like a real dick sometimes. “I’m… good, really. It was more of a mutual thing, to be honest.” he lied, as smoothly as he was at getting the wrinkles out of the piece of paper, which wasn’t very.

“Really? I thought you said he broke up with you. What exactly happened?” Oliver could tell by her tone of voice, she wasn’t believing him, and he couldn’t blame her.

“Well, I mean, he brought it up. But it was okay. I agreed. We just didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of stuff. It happens.” he shrugged the shoulder the phone wasn’t on, even though his mother couldn’t see, and he didn’t exactly feel nonchalant about the matter either. “I’m gonna be fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” his mother asked and after Oliver’s confirmation, she sighed. “I guess I’ll have to believe you. Are you coming home then?”

“Um, well. No. I’m going to spend some more time here,” he told himself it wasn’t because Brad might want to talk this out, or discuss it more calmly - on his part - or possibly make up, no way. It was because he had paid for this room and he didn’t want to cause trouble by suddenly up and leaving, cutting his time short here. He could handle a few more days here. “Then, go to Colorado, like planned.”

“By yourself?”

“Mmhm. I am 35, I can handle time by myself. And I am sort of a chef so I won’t starve.” he tried to assure, though it wasn’t a very good assurance. He knew that wasn’t his mom’s concern, obviously, but he wasn’t going to give out any actual assurances because he didn’t want to think about that.

His mom knew there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise. He had always been stubborn and rarely dove off the path he chose, even if it was a bad one and people pointed it out. “Just promise me something? Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, ‘course. Don’t worry. I’m really okay.” he did wonder, was he really? He wasn’t sure what to feel right now. “Oh, guess what I saw yesterday…” he managed to change the subject and after a few more minutes of conversation, he was off the phone. He stared down at it, at the background of it being a picture of him and Brad. He guessed he needed to change that. He quickly locked the phone and put it upside on the table, before slipping the failed origami piece into the book and shutting it. He was okay, right? Maybe this was good. Maybe… this was for the best. He got up and began to pace, telling himself it was okay… so why didn’t he feel okay? Even if he was starting to realize that they both were never good for the other, he still felt pretty shitty about the whole thing. Two years he had spent with Brad. Two whole years spent together. All gone, in just under an hour. That thought made it feel like his chest was caving in. He was thirsty. He went over to the mini fridge, falling to his knees as he opened it, and went for a bottled water when he froze.

He hadn’t bothered looking in the mini fridge until now, even though they had been in there for a few days, because they had ventured out enough to go out to eat every time. He hadn’t had a desire for anything to drink while in the room, and the drinks were always ridiculously priced anyway. While he could afford it, it was the principle of the matter. On the top shelf, in a pretty little row, was little bottles of alcohol. There weren’t many, just five in a row, but it was enough to make his heart jump into his throat and lodge there. If there was ever a time he needed a drink more…

No! he told himself angrily, slamming the door shut, making everything inside rattle, before sitting back on his behind. He dragged his knees to his chest, resting his chin on one of them, and stared at the shiny, black surface of the mini fridge. He could still see them. He could imagine the little click they’d make as he opened one. The slight burn as he drank one down. The warm feeling it’d spread throughout his chest. The satisfaction he’d feel, over giving in to something he hadn’t had in almost a year. A year spent with Brad. He clenched his fists and glared at the mini fridge. “Goddamnit!” he cursed loudly as he reached forward, ripping open the door.

The next morning, when housekeeping came by, the woman saw a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from room number 102’s door handle. Next, she saw a pillow case laying beside the door, tied at the top. She picked it up, confusion clear on her face, and something clinked quietly together in the bottom of the pillow case. Attached to the case, was a post-it note, simply reading, “Charge me if you want but please don’t replace these in my fridge.” she untied the case, looked inside, and saw five unopened little bottles of alcohol nestled in the bottom. They hadn’t replaced them in Oliver’s fridge for the rest of his short stay.

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“Yes ma’am, here’s the note that certifies them,” Gabriel unzipped the baggy to pull out the formal letter from his doctor, “It’s just to sedate me; trust me, you’d rather have me high than panicked.” The security personnel gave the note a once over, examined the tranquilizer, and gave Gabriel a wary eye. It only took a moment before she handed that baggy back and allowed him onward.

The entire stroll to Gate 7, Gabriel contemplated whether or not it’d be wise to take his dose now. A four hour trip from Boston to Colorado only dampened his mood and intensified the quake in his hands. He found the farthest seat from anyone and breathed deep, eyes shut tight. The grip on his carry on’s handle turned white knuckled and before he could steady his breath they announced first class boarding. Honestly, he wished they’d given him economy, but he didn’t expect any less from his parents.

“Only four hours,” he mumbled, allowing himself to fall into step with the line. Once they officially boarded and he fumbled enough with his luggage that an attendant had to help, Gabriel allowed himself a number of deep breaths in his seat. Only privy to the burst of the engines and the rush of rolling forward, Gabriel slipped the tranquilizer from the baggy (a small dose, one he almost argued against) and gave himself the shot. It took a number of deep breaths before he slipped into a lulled state of mind - a little dopey and while his eyelids felt heavy, he didn’t exactly feel tired. Self-aware, he only spared a shy glance to his neighbor and nearly fell into the man’s lap as he did.

“Sorry, I’m… just,” he mumbled, “Getting used to the feeling. I’ll mellow out inna minute.”

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This was going to be good for him. That was what he kept telling himself. He needed this mini vacation by himself. A vacation he, honestly, didn’t put an end date on. He employed himself, and he had the money to stay up there for some time, so why set a date for his time to end? He would decide while he was there. He just needed a couple weeks, maybe even a month tops, by himself. He could do this without any slipups. He deserved this trip, didn’t he? A trip to get away, to be able to think without the influence of others. He just hoped he could manage the time alone without the influence of a certain something. Oh, you will… you gotta. he thought, thinking briefly back to his time at the hotel. Give yourself a little credit for that. it had been almost two weeks since his breakup with Brad; he didn’t feel as confused or blindsided now. He was sad, but he couldn’t decide if that was over Brad, or the lost two years, to be honest. Something inside him was relieved but he wasn’t digging too deeply into his feelings over this. He’d rather just go and try to have a nice and relaxing time by himself.

Currently, he was waiting at Gate 7 for the announcement that first class was boarding. He had flip-flopped between first class and economy. But, since he had planned on having Brad with him, he had opted for first class to make the flight better for Brad. He, himself, hadn’t cared either way, but he wanted Brad to feel comfortable. Since he had the money, he liked to pamper the people he cared for, but looked like that wouldn’t happen anymore in the case of Brad. He lifted his eyes from his phone where he had been trying to distract himself by playing Color Switch, but that hadn’t been working. He took in the people around him, wondering who he’d be seated by. The day after the breakup, he had called the airport to see if any other seats were open, so in case two other people wanted to sit next to each other, he wouldn’t be taking up that space. The flight hadn’t been fully booked yet, and he had almost changed his ticket to economy, but he decided to keep with it. He hadn’t wanted to go through that much hassle, or cause that much trouble, and he told himself it was okay to allow himself a couple finer things in life once in awhile, since he usually avoided that treatment for himself.

He found his eyes lingering on someone seated a fair distance away. The man looked vaguely familiar but Oliver couldn’t exactly tell from this distance, and he wasn’t going to go up to the man to eyeball him, especially since the man might have chosen that seat purposefully. Instead, he went back to his phone, so he wouldn’t be caught staring, and possibly make anyone uncomfortable. After losing again on Color Switch and beginning to grow frustrated with the stupid popular game, the announcement for first class boarding caught his attention. With a deep breath, he got up to step into line. There was still some doubt in the back of his head that he wasn’t doing the right thing here. He had already ignored calls from both his parents and his therapist - probably being asked by his parents to try and contact him - and while he felt guilty about that, he didn’t want to have to defend why he was doing this. He couldn’t exactly say why but to be alone. And, that was something he wasn’t sure was a good thing or not yet.

It seemed he was on before his seatmate. He shoved his carry on into the overhead before sliding into the seat by the window. He turned to stare out of it, looking out over part of the airport, taking it all in. People were still boarding and he listened to the normal sounds, idle chitchat, luggage being moved around, people settling in. All the movement made him feel a little bit on edge, but nothing serious. Once everything slowed down and they were moving, he’d be fine. He’d be fine once they landed. He’d be fine once he reached the cabin. He’d be fine once he stayed with his own thoughts for a while. Just taking a breather, that was what he was doing. He felt the presence of someone beside him before he heard them taking deep breaths. He could understand being nervous on a flight. He turned to the person, with the intent to say something so he wouldn’t feel so awkward next to a stranger, when the words died in his throat. It was the man he had noticed earlier and now that he was sitting next to him, he definitely was familiar.

He began to rack his brain for where he might possibly know him. He didn’t want to openly stare but he was finding it hard because he knew this guy. He knew he did. However, when the man slipped a tranquilizer out from a baggy, he averted his eyes not out of shock or judgement, but respect. He didn’t want to be staring and the man mistake it for that reason, when in reality, it was because Oliver was wondering where he had seen that blonde hair and those blue eyes before. It didn’t take long for him to figure it out, perhaps because of how the man nearly ended up in his lap, and how he spoke. He got a grip on the man’s - Gabriel, holy shit, he thought he’d never see this face again - shoulder to make sure he stayed upright. “Hey, it’s cool,” he said, feeling his heart race a little. This was very unexpected.

Like a jolt, though, he realized Gabriel must not recognize him or surely he’d say something… right? Oliver wondered if he should say something, attempt to jolt Gabriel’s memory. He immediately thought against it. He didn’t want to remind Gabriel of what he took from him, what he couldn’t save, so he simply attempted a reassuring smile. He had seen the man in this state plenty of times before, so he knew how to handle him like this. “Nothing to apologize for.” he told him seriously, realizing he had kept his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. Quickly, he released his shoulder, his smile turning slightly sheepish as he looked down at his lap. Yeah, that attraction he had to Gabriel was coming back with a vengeance, but now, nor never, was the time. What a month this was turning out to be.

Time didn’t favor Gabriel much these days and the moment he leaned forward to reply, the plane lurched forward and the roar of engines pushed him further into his seat more than the gravity had. “Whoa,” he breathed, his hands grabbing whatever they could cling to. One of them happened to snatch Oliver’s wrist and the grip he had only tightened the further up they went. It went on like that for upwards of twenty minutes, with Gabriel’s vice grip slowly loosening enough that he quickly became aware of what he’d done. “Oh,” he mumbled, though his attention quickly swung toward the lady power walking down the aisle.

Oliver’s focus had been on Gabriel, even if he hadn’t been directly looking at the man, so the sudden take off had caught him a little off guard, but he didn’t have an intense phobia of flying like Gabriel obviously had, so it hadn’t bothered him. Though, he did feel some concern for Gabriel, especially when he heard his worded breath, but then his wrist was being grabbed and his eyes snapped to the contact. Honestly, in the hospital, Gabriel had touched him like this before, drugged up and not in his right state of mind, so he didn’t mind at all. This felt a bit weird. Actually, a lot weird. He felt like he should be back overseas and in a military hospital, visiting Gabriel because the man never mentioned family, he felt guilty, and he might have grown a small, but very inappropriate, crush on him. He was very relieved to not be there anymore, but being beside Gabriel was bringing that time back. Not that it was Gabriel’s fault, at all, so he wasn’t exactly protesting the man’s company. There was some disappointment he wasn’t recognized, but also intense relief.

“I wonder if they sell peanuts here,” he thought aloud, letting go of Oliver’s wrist and sinking into his seat. After a few seconds, Gabriel began to rummage through one of his pockets, grunting as he shifted his position on his seat. The constant movement only shoved him further down his seat until his hands snatched whatever it’d been looking for.

Oliver looked up at Gabriel’s voice, having been fixated on such a simple point of contact for reasons he didn’t even want to know, and began to smile, before his expression morphed into confusion at Gabriel digging through his pocket. “Uh.” he mumbled quietly to himself, watching Gabriel sink further down into his seat, and rubbing at his mouth to try and not smile, though it was hard. He had quickly learned that Gabriel was a good distraction from the hardships of being overseas; he was quite the character drugged up - who wasn’t? - but combine that with Oliver’s interest, and the ex-surgeon had been highly amused and a little taken. He had enjoyed humouring Gabriel, finding his time with the blonde to be a bit of a breather. That disappointment expended a little, pushing some of the relief away, but no, it was a good thing Gabriel didn’t know who he was. It should've been expected, though Oliver had never put much thought into it since he thought he’d never see Gabriel again.

Prior to the flight, Gabriel hadn’t been too certain the sedatives would work the whole flight and had stocked his iPod full of whatever songs he still needed to listen to in the recent years. The music player had been firmly secure one of his buttoned pants pockets where he currently pulled it from. After another few seconds, Gabriel’s hand come back with a pair of earphones, one of which he shoved toward Oliver.

“Mm, wanna listen?” he said, not waiting for Oliver’s consent before shoving the earbud into his companion’s ear. Once he got his rightfully positioned, he amped up the music loud enough to drown out sound, but not enough to irritate his eardrums. Coldplay’s Magic beat steadily into both their ears and Gabriel looked over from his slouched position to smile dumbly at Oliver. “I like your face,” he said, soft and barely a whisper. After a few seconds, he mumbled again before he slumped into a drug-induced sleep, “you’ve got the prettiest eyes.”

Oliver blinked at Gabriel’s sudden question, and he was going to politely decline. He was sure with both earbuds in, if the sedatives wore off mid-flight, Gabriel would find comfort in having music blasting into both of his ears. But, instead, he found an earbud being slipped into his ear with an accuracy that shouldn’t belong to a man high out of his mind, and accepted his fate as to not upset Gabriel. Not that he was going to protest, honestly. He didn’t want to watch the in-flight movie and he was curious about Gabriel’s music taste. Kind of creepy, Oli. he thought as a song began to come through the earbud. He immediately recognized it as Coldplay and he turned to Gabriel to compliment him having that song on his iPod, when a goofy smile was being directed at him. He felt the words melt on his tongue and at Gabriel’s words, he bit down on his bottom lip in a poor attempt to hold back laughter. This was very familiar. Gabriel had liked dishing out compliments to Oliver every time he had been around, and that hadn’t helped with Oliver’s infatuation.

A quiet laugh escaped from him as he watched Gabriel pass out. He was wondering if this was really happening. His eyes lingered on Gabriel’s face, trying to decide if he had actually consumed that alcohol back at the hotel, and this was a really long, freakishly detailed drunken dream. He knew that was reaching but thinking the world worked in mysterious ways wasn’t really something he’d do, so he wasn’t going to start now. He finally turned away from Gabriel, though he couldn’t go far or else he’d accidentally rip his earbud out, and stared at the seat in front of him. Instead of letting his mind wander, he leaned his head back and just concentrated on the music, feeling a little bit of surprise as he realized his and Gabriel’s music tastes lined up pretty well.

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Oliver passed the flight doing mindless things on his phone, and enjoying the music on Gabriel’s iPod. The man barely stirred, not that was surprising. His phone was bitching at him, on the verge of dying, and he pocketed it when it was announced they’d be landing in a few minutes. He watched out the window as the ground got closer and closer, and felt the bit of tension in him leave after they landed. He had always liked the ground better. As people began to move about, slowly shuffling out, Oliver slipped the earbud from his ear, and did the same to Gabriel. He shut the iPod off, wrapping the headphones around it, before he reached over to gently shake Gabriel’s shoulder. “Hey… G-” he cut himself off, briefly biting his inner cheek hard before he continued, ... guy. You survived.”

A jolt passed through Gabriel, the electricity of feeling touched and then the sudden surfacing of memories had him bolting upright. “What? What? Oh. Oh shit, where’s the… the… the, uh…” his frantic voice mellowed out as his eyes fell on the still intact plane, the hand on his shoulder, then the man beside him. Another shock passed through him, one filled with more hazy memories that he could just barely see, but his mind refused to move forward to reach. That face seemed glaringly familiar, if a bit aged and worn - much like his, no doubt. He pushed those thoughts down and fell back into his seat to watch the other passengers slowly mill onto the docking platform.

“S-sorry, am I blocking you?” Gabriel moved to stand, almost groaning at the need to stretch but resisted as his eyes kept on the man beneath him.

Oliver felt his heart skip as Gabriel bolting upright, and he didn’t remove his hand, but gave his shoulder a tight squeeze, a way he hoped was grounding. When it seemed Gabriel had a grasp of his surroundings, he slowly released his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, letting the man watch the passengers leaving, but Oliver found his eyes stuck to Gabriel’s face. He knew he shouldn’t be staring, but he hadn’t seen that face in… a long time, he didn’t want to do the maths right now, and it was still shocking to see. Though, that wouldn’t last much longer, and he felt a pang of disappointment. You need sleep. he thought, because really, it wasn’t like he had known Gabriel extremely well. When the man stood, he found his eyes glancing at Gabriel’s covered leg, but he quickly got to his own feet as a way to not wonder about it.

“No, no, you’re fine,” he assured quickly and glanced off to the side. A lot of the passengers had filed off, just a few that were taking their time or waiting for the crowd to pass starting to move themselves. “Um. I thought you… might be thirsty when you woke up, and you had mentioned peanuts before dropping off,” he picked up a small bottled water and a bag of peanuts he had gotten earlier, almost cringing as he held them out to Gabriel, his iPod also clenched in the hand with the peanuts. “You don’t have to… take them. Just thought you might want them, you know?” he murmured, not quite looking at Gabriel, instead staring at a spot on his chest, as his cheeks felt like they were too warm. He felt kind of ridiculous now; when he had first gotten the water and peanuts, he had been excited to hand them over, excited to help another person, but now he felt a doubt and embarrassment settling down in him.

Coming off of sedatives sucked, that much Gabriel was certain. One of the issues he’s had to deal with, one of the most annoying ones, had been that simultaneous point where he felt if he didn’t he he’d starve and just the thought of food caused his stomach to tighten and his esophagus read to dry heave. Gabriel accepted everything with an expression between thankful and pinched; at least he’d have the peanuts for later.

A beat passed before he took in his surroundings again, alert to the lack of people still on the plane. He muttered a curse, shoved the peanuts in his pocket and moved to gather his things from the compartment above him. Noticing the second pile of carry ons, Gabriel slung those off and onto his shoulder before passing them onto Oliver. “Yours, I’m assuming,” he said and gave a tight lipped smile before allowing Oliver to walk by first. Gabriel followed close on his heels as they exited the plane and found themselves standing side by side near a wide pillar that divided the numerous gates.

Oliver tried to not overthink Gabriel’s reaction to what he had seen as a kind act, but now was doubting it even more. Okay, he didn’t need to freak out. He knew this past week was making him feel all twisted up and out of character, even, but he knew coming off of sedatives was never a fun venture. He had not only witnessed it countless times, but he had been there, too. So, he brushed off the reaction, instead just smiling and waiting to get his own carry ons, when they were passed to him instead. He blinked, taking them, before he smiled again. “Thanks,” he said as he slipped by to go first, leaving the plane but then stopping, finding himself rooted next to Gabriel and not wanting to walk away yet. He did wonder what was wrong with him. This whole week was just throwing him off, and seeing a familiar, and still extremely handsome, face was adding to him feeling a bit off. It didn’t exactly explain why he was lingering here, when he should be letting Gabriel get where he needed to go, especially before the man possibly recognized him.

This stranger tried his damn best to be accommodating. No doubt Gabe had made a complete ass out of himself before somehow konking out, likely mid-sentence. Just the fact that he couldn’t remember anything made things worse and he compelled himself to turn toward Oliver. “I’m really sorry, by the way,” Gabriel started, “I… I probably didn’t give you my name while I was high out of my mind. It’s Gabriel Carrington, but Gabe’s fine.”

A lengthy pause hung over him, his mouth trying to form more words. He had a lot to say and likely not a lot of time. This guy probably had somewhere to be and here Gabe was keeping him unnecessarily. “Again, I’m really sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you - that is, if you’re not late for anything,” Gabriel offered, making sure the guy had an out just in case. Even if he lied, Gabriel would definitely understand.

In all honesty, Oliver was having his doubts that Gabriel would recognize him, since he just introduced himself. Maybe that was for the best. He didn’t want to admit he was the one who couldn’t save a part of Gabriel. He leaned against the pillar as he let the pause hang, seeing that Gabriel had more to say, and waiting patiently. It wasn’t like he had anywhere pressing to be. He knew he looked surprised at Gabriel’s offer. He should say no. He really should take the out Gabriel gave him, and dart out of there. Go to his parents’ cozy cabin, settle in, and try to relax enough to not think too hard on this interaction. For a few seconds, he stared at Gabriel owlishly, before he realized he wasn’t exactly giving an answer, or a good reaction, at that.

“Oh. You probably don’t remember me telling you there’s nothing to apologize for when you were higher than the plane so I’ll say it again. Nothing to apologize for, Gabe, really.” he said sincerely, giving a reassuring smile. He could understand suffering from a few problems, and he wouldn’t judge anyone from suffering from their own demons. “I’m Oliver Harris. Nice meeting you.” here, he hesitated. He really should say no. He really should but he didn’t always do what he should, which usually ended up being his downfall, but whatever. Spending a little more time with Gabriel won’t kill him, and it wasn’t like he was going to get a chance to see him for longer than this. So… fuck it. Why not? This could be a good distraction from what he was trying to run from. “I have nowhere important to be. Unless you consider sitting in front of a fire drinking hot cocoa important, which I sort of do, but I think I can pencil you in.” he joked lamely, with a one-shoulder shrug and a smile that briefly revealed white teeth.

Not the best joke in the book, but it got a small laugh out of Gabriel. Mostly, though, he felt relief. The fact that he could have faced rejection just dawned on him. Rejection from what? They were total strangers. Gabriel visibly winced, trying to get the thought out. He recovered by offering a hand and shaking Oliver’s. “Sorry for the hasty appointment, doctor,” he said and motioned Oliver to follow.

Well, at least that horrible joke got a small laugh. It could have been a pity laugh, but Oliver was just going to say it wasn’t, and move on. He needed to sometimes shut his mouth, or stuff like that came out. He was far too aware of Gabriel, so he noticed the visible wince, but he wasn’t one to ask questions that could tick someone off, or even possibly trigger someone. Even, he didn’t know Gabe well enough to start asking after his well being with the intent for deep conversation… though it didn’t mean he hadn’t wanted too, or wouldn’t want too. He was glad Gabriel was turning away after his words, because he felt himself tense at the term doctor. Though, he realized Gabriel was joking - of course he was, calm down - and gave a belated laugh that sounded more relieved and breathy than anything. Time to move past that quickly.

Most days, Gabriel didn’t have to visibly fix his slight limp. The brace attaching the prosthetic worked fine with his knee. It bent willingly and practically unnoticeable; it was a fucking wonder the foot of it fit in his shoe without any stabilization problems. However, the fact that Oliver had so swiftly demanded his attention without either realizing (until now, for Gabriel), it made that limp a lot more noticeable - at least, in Gabe’s mind. The fact that he now consciously fixed it only drew further attention to the oddity of his gait and posture. A grimace took his features and he quickly made his way to the nearest coffee shop. Mentions of cocoa had him craving and he quickly procured a booth in a dimly lit corner after allowing the both of them to order.

They passed time with idle chat, only pausing to grab their hot chocolate. Mostly, it was Gabe recounting a lot of his middle life - the point between losing his leg, honorable discharge from the army, and now. A lot of boring things, like trying to read up on astrophysics and get his mind thinking critically again. The fact that he’s kind of looking to hopefully work out his fear of flying to potentially work for NASA. That’s a long shot any way you look at it, but Gabe spent a lot of life shying away from his dreams. It wouldn’t hurt to start back where he left off. Aside from the fact that he’s missing a few decades, he doesn’t think it’s all too bad of an idea.

“Right now, I’m kinda here for a family thing,” Gabriel bit his lip and let his eyes wander, suddenly aware his lack of eye contact would be a visible tick, “I walked out on them at 18 to join the air force. Haven’t talked to them since. A large task refusing any kind of communication for 18 years; I didn’t part on good terms and I wanted to make sure I was in the right mindset to make amends. I think I’m ready now, though.”

So maybe that last part was a lie. A very big one. He rubbed his face and let his hands fall to circle around the cup of cocoa in front of him. “Maybe not. I’ve done a heaping pile of nothing - that’s not true. I had a lot of therapy, I guess, but I still feel off, like I’m missing some kind of accomplishment to show them I’m fine. Or something,” Gabriel trailed off, letting his head turn to stare at the middle space facing the display window.

Oliver wouldn’t exactly say this out loud but he was sort of surprised at how much Gabriel was telling him. It didn’t mean he felt any less glad for his openness, though. He settled in and listened contently to Gabriel’s rumbling voice, sipping at his cocoa. He much preferred to be a listener rather than a talker, and so it was easy for him to be quiet, nodding and giving acknowledgements here and there, little things that showed he was actively listening. He kept his silence when Gabriel did, knowing the man would eventually fill it, and wanting him too. He enjoyed Gabriel’s voice. With a slight jolt that he was glad Gabriel hadn’t noticed since he was staring off, he realized this was the first, official, time he was communicating with Gabriel when he was fully sober. Now that made him feel self-conscious again, but he tried to ignore it, taking a gulp of his cocoa and nearly burning his tongue off. He looked down at the cup, rubbing his tongue against his front teeth and cursing mentally. He needed to get ahold of himself.

A thought occurred to him and a large grin pressed against his cheeks. “You know what’d be hilarious?” he didn’t wait for Oliver to answer, “if I asked a total stranger to be my fake fiance for a few months. Like post it up on craigslist or something; sounds like something out of a book. Or a weird version of You’ve Got Mail.” Gabriel let that thought sink in, his eyes fixed on Oliver’s face. His expression, everything about him screamed ‘attractive’... screamed ‘fuckable’ it made Gabriel’s face heat up involuntarily. He moved to hide it, coughing into his hand and taking a long gulp of his cocoa.

Oliver rose his gaze when, as predicted, Gabriel filled the silence, and felt his eyes catch on the grin on his face. He can’t remember Gabriel being this attractive, and it was sort of unfair. What was more unfair, though, were those blue eyes being locked on his face. He found it hard to break eye contact, and chose not too, because eyes that blue should be illegal. He noticed a redness start to come over Gabriel’s face, felt some concern jolt in him, but Gabriel seemed to recover, so he didn’t ask. He knew some people didn’t like to be fretted over, and he wasn’t sure which person Gabriel was. He didn’t want to possibly annoy Gabriel, so he chose to just be a presence rather than to start spewing off questions. “That’s something that’d turn into a serial movie real quick, you know that?” he commented, letting out a slight laugh as he looked down at his cup.

After the nervous laughter, silence hung over the two. Gabriel’s hands traced the lines on the wood table, avoiding knocking over his cup - avoiding looking at Oliver more. A deep breath expanded and ruffled his coat. Heat rose from Gabriel’s arms to his chest and stomach and finally his face. He cringed, knowing drawing attention to the fact that the airport was warm, he was drinking coffee, wearing a coat, and was this close to making an utter fool out of himself was entirely his fault. That blame was his to take.

“I’ll pay you five grand to be my fake fiance for this family reunion. Up front. Right now,” Gabriel’s head jolted up as he spoke, high on impulse and just really, really into making an ass out of himself in a public area. Like, just so into it. Just really, really, really turned on by the idea of humiliating himself non-sexually in front of a shit ton of people and a really cute guy. Yeah. His brows slowly drove themselves inward and his lips pressed tighter and tighter into a thin line, waiting patiently for Gabriel to implode.

Oliver watched Gabriel’s fingers move along the table, noticing that he was avoiding eye contact again. Not that Oliver minded. He understood some people couldn’t meet others’ eyes for various of reasons. To not openly stare at Gabriel, he instead watched his fingers. They were long, pale, and that was when Oliver needed to avert his gaze. He lifted his cup to his mouth, getting a small sip since his tongue was still aching from earlier, when Gabriel spoke. In his shock, he choked on the small amount of liquid, but nothing serious. Just a little coughing and throat-clearing managed to get it down, and he took a deep breath as he looked at Gabriel with wide eyes, face a bit red. “Uh.” he said rather dumbly, blinking and reaching up to run a slightly shaky hand through his hair, making some of the dark locks flop over his forehead when he scrubbed his hand forward. Did… did that just happen? That just happened. He was just asked to be the fake fiance of a guy he had very strong feelings over. And not romantically, but feelings of guilt, self-blame, lust, and attraction. To say yes would be bad, on so many levels. Saying yes was not a good idea, not at all, really, it was a bad, bad idea.

So, why was Oliver considering it? He stared at Gabriel, feeling his heart racing, his palms starting to sweat. This… could really help Gabe out, right? He had already expressed feeling like he had a lack of accomplishments to show to his family, a family he hadn’t seen in 18 years (that sort of boggled Oliver, being a family man himself, but he also understood not everyone was). Having a fiance would show that Gabriel had been putting himself out there, meeting people, opening up. It would make it seem like he was doing really well for himself. Which, in Oliver’s opinion, Gabriel was doing well for himself. But, a lot of people put stock into relationships, especially romantic ones, and he wondered if some of his family was like that. Either way, being in a relationship like that was good for an image, if one wanted to be shallow and overlook the accomplishments made by someone individually. Yet at the same time, seemingly having someone to confide in romantically could possibly make some of his family happy for him, make it seem like a form of helping himself, of moving on from what he had been through, and finding someone to settle down with comfortably.

Oh God, he was actually considering it. Not for the money, or because he was attracted to Gabriel, but because he felt like he had to help him. He couldn’t help him back in that Hell hole they had been in, he couldn’t save something that he was reminded he was missing every second of everyday. Maybe… this could ease his guilt, just a little. Gabriel had been one patient that stuck with him more than some of the others. Maybe this was a strange chance to fix this, to help Gabriel and actually do so successfully. Even, if he ever wanted a good distraction from Brad, here it was. It wasn’t a real relationship, it was with someone handsome, and Hell, it could even turn out to be fun. Like… being a spy, or something, yeah.

He couldn’t believe he was actually going to do this. Was he losing it? Maybe. But he had a shitty week. No, he had a shitty majority of his life, and so fuck it. Why couldn’t he throw caution to the wind and do something reckless that didn’t relate to destroying his liver? This could turn out so bad but it could also turn out fun. It’d be an experience, either way, and he’d be attempting to make amends. No, he would be making amends. If he didn’t slip-up. Damn, now they had a lot to discuss- oh, he hadn’t said yes. He had been staring at Gabriel for the past four, almost five, minutes without saying a word.

“Sorry, sorry, got lost in my own head,” Oliver quickly reassured, gripping his cup hard and allowing himself to glance away for a brief moment. He wanted to deny the money, he had no need for it after all, but then it’d look weird. He had to act like he was doing this for the money, rather than because he was making amends, and trying to smooth out some of the guilt he felt over this one man… who didn’t even know. “Is this gonna be like The Proposal? Where I’m gonna have to ask you generic as Hell questions in case one of your family members start grilling me?” he asked, reaching up to push the hair on his forehead back where it belonged, “So, favourite color? Childhood pet’s name? It wasn’t Sparky or Spot, right? So damn cliche.” he shook his head before he realized he hadn’t given a straight answer, though what he had been spewing was answer enough, he guessed. He still gave a clear answer, “My way of saying… yeah. I’ll be your fake fiance. Ever since I was a boy, I’ve been planning for my fake wedding. Even got a book and everything.”

“Wha…?” the thought that someone would actually say yes - a one-in-a-million chance - never really occurred to Gabriel. Honestly, he wouldn’t have put it against Oliver to take his coffee and leave. That fire sounded a lot cozier than being accosted by a stranger in an airport. Gabriel blinked, his eyes widened, and he nearly crushed his cup of coffee just trying to comprehend everything. “You’ll do it?” he repeated, this time a statement, “You’ll do it.”

Unexpected. Now what?

“Oh.” Oliver had already given suggestions and Gabriel just ignored him in favor of shock. “Yeah, um, favorite color: blue. Childhood pet: had too many to count. I have an intense love for the stars, though. You can say you bought me a telescope for our, uh, anniversary or something. Anything space related and they’ll believe you. Um, my favorite food: Pad Thai with Shrimp, but also no bake cookies. I had a really big Selena phase in the 90s, but… family probably doesn’t know about that,” he continued prattling off little tidbits about himself as they came up, making sure Oliver knew whatever he could about himself. As he wound down and the pauses lengthened, Gabriel scratched the back of his head. “Honestly, most of it will come natural. Just, most of the basics, I guess, should be out of the way,” Gabriel explained until he jolted in his seat and whipped out his wallet, “I should get you that 5 grand. Here, let’s go find a nearby ATM and you can tell me what I need to know about you.”

After agreeing to that - in such a long-winded way, Oliver needed to learn to shut his mouth - he began to have a doubt growing in the back of his mind. He agreed too quickly, didn't he? Granted, he was making it look like he needed the money, but nonetheless, it took someone real desperate to say yes to that sort of question. He was desperate, but not for money. He was desperate to make amends, to try and rid himself of this guilt; desperate to forget about a fresh break-up and to avoid the haunting thoughts of a warm, burning liquid. This could be a great distraction or a really, really bad one. Either way, Oliver was going to do it, and his main reasoning was because Gabriel deserved this after what he was unable to save for him.

He refused to acknowledge the fact that yeah, he found Gabriel really attractive too. He had back in the military hospital, and he did now, even after all these years had hardened and aged his face. He looked better to Oliver and that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. He listened even more intently when Gabriel said a few random facts about himself. He could feel some nerves growing. He was about to meet a practical stranger’s family, posing as his fiance. Oliver needed to learn to make really smart and well thought out decisions, but he wasn't going to back out, and he'd be helping out someone who certainly deserved it. He hummed here and there, finding himself nodding with a growing smile as Gabriel began naming off random facts about himself. At least they could relate on quite a few things, so this wouldn't feel so awkward. He took a drink of his lukewarm coffee - not as good now, he was ready to toss it - and blinked when money was brought up. Oh, yeah, that, he was supposed to act like he needed that.

Sliding out of his chair, Gabriel beckoned Oliver to follow as he gathered all his belongings. They made their way down quite a ways through the airport until Gabriel hit a small corner where an ATM sat snug in the wall. He swiped his card and didn’t hesitate with withdrawing that much money and immediately turning to hand it over to Oliver. “There,” he smiled and started moving toward the Airport’s exit, “you can tell me more when we get into the car. It’s a bit of a long drive there. Hope that’s not a hassle.”

It was hard for Oliver to accept the money when he had plenty in his own bank account. It was also hard to accept because guilt was an encasing feeling that made him immediately want to deny any little thing Gabriel offered him yet he knew he couldn't do that during this trip. He hadn't even asked how long this would last. He guessed it didn't matter, since he had plenty of time on his hands. He didn't hesitate to shove the money into an inside pocket on his duffel in an attempt for safe keeping, zipping it back up while it hung from his shoulder, before he grabbed his other bag and began rolling his suitcase behind him. He hadn't minded hashing out the money to send some of his bags with his clothes for Boston back to LA without him, so he didn't have to deal with them here. “Not a hassle at all,” he reassured, because it really wasn’t.

During the RSVP process, Gabriel’d let them know he’d prefer driving on his own and they procured him his choice of rental vehicles, of which Gabriel chose the only truck on the list. He figured they had staff to gather a number of things, but it didn’t hurt to volunteer himself when the time came. It just gave him an excuse to get out of the cabin when everything started overwhelming him. Plus, this snow wouldn’t let up till the end of winter, no doubt, and he had the foresight to pick a vehicle that could actually safely drive in a blizzard.

And boy did it warm up quick, too. Gabriel huffed, watching as minutes ticked by and the vapor of his breath steadily disappear with every puff. He looked toward Oliver before putting the truck in reverse. Being the gentleman that he was - and it didn’t hurt to make it up to the guy, either - Gabriel piled all their belongings in the spacious backseat area, suddenly glad for the extra length.

As they rolled onto the highway, Gabriel spared a glance at his future fake husband and tried his best to smile. “I’m sorry again,” he started, moving to turn the music down to better hear the both of them, “why don’t you tell me more about yourself? I wanna get some things down before we arrive.”

Oliver almost protested when Gabriel began taking his belongings to put up himself but he stopped just in time. He didn't need to look guilty, so he gave a small thank you before getting into the truck. He rubbed his hands together, wishing he had put on a thicker jacket but he knew he wouldn't had been lingering in the cold outside, and spared a glance at Gabriel. “No need to apologize. I'm the one who said yes.” he pointed out, staring at Gabriel’s side profile for a few seconds before tearing his eyes away to watch the road ahead. “All right. This is like a really weird blind date-” he stopped and cleared his throat a little. “One glaringly obvious thing about me is that when I'm tired and nervous, I ramble. And joke. Poorly. Not that you're making me nervous! Just… anyway.” time to move on and stop putting his foot on his mouth. “Favorite color: I'm torn between green and blue, so let's say blue since it's yours. Favorite food: God, there's so many. No bake cookies are the bomb but… anything Italian, and I'm there. Good thing I know some stuff about space myself. While it's not a passion like it is for you, I enjoy reading up on astronomy. Astrochemistry and space medicine. Which space medicine isn't a surprise because-”

Here, he hesitated. He didn't have to let Gabriel know about his time in the military but surely he could say he went to medical school. At least the dog tags around his neck aren't his own, in case Gabriel spotted them at some point during this strange relationship. He picked up, acting like he never left off. “I went to medical school and worked for a while as a surgeon. Now I'm a professional chef. Weird career change, I know, but my mother was a surgeon and my father a chef. So grew up around both, though I've always liked cooking more. Alton Brown is my hero, so if I turn on Food Network and see him, I may become a swooning mess.” he rattled off just a couple more things, gently tapping his fingers against his slightly bouncing knee without really noticing. “Oh. Should say Dreaming of You is a Selena song I could listen to nonstop and never get sick of.” he flashed Gabriel a toothy grin, and grew quiet for a moment, wondering how he got to this moment when he was supposed to be here with someone else.

That honestly surprised him. Well, not really. Gabriel spared a glance at Oliver, again, and decided he seemed the type to have that much intelligence and then skill. Honestly, having a steady hand worked for both jobs; it was highly likely Oliver was a better chef because of his experience as a surgeon. Honestly, he thought too hard on it; the choice likely had been simple for Oliver and not such a technical decision.

“Don’t get me drinking, otherwise I’ll definitely make you sick of that song,” Gabriel flashed a grin as he spoke, turning onto a less busy road and up towards Colorado’s snakier paths. The snow didn’t seem too bad, at the moment, though white did blanket the entire landscape. Still, despite the lack of strong snow, Gabriel drove as safe as he could - he had a passenger, after all. Someone important, his mind supplied and he quickly shook the thought.

Oliver stared out the window for a moment when he found his eyes returning to Gabriel. He still couldn't quite believe this. That this man was back in his life and… sober, this time, and his fake fiance. It'd take some time for the shock to wear off. At Gabriel’s words, Oliver laughed. “I dunno, I might have to test that and see,” he teased slightly, feeling some of the tension in him melt away. It wasn't really Gabriel causing the tension. He just had a stressful past week, it had been piling up, and now this was a sudden change in plans. It was a nervous thought, portraying this fake relationship to a family he knew nothing about. Speaking of which…

“So. I probably need a little back story on your family and how long we’re going to be doing this. Don't worry, I have no time limit. I wasn't even sure how long I was going to spend here myself, so you have me for however long you want me.” that sounded suggestive but Oliver definitely wasn't going to point that out. Gabriel would get what he meant. “Just basic family stuff, I mean. Whatever you'd tell me, I guess, if we had actually been dating.” maybe, if Oliver hadn't been Gabriel’s doctor, and they hadn't been in that situation, he would have pursued Gabriel. But those are thoughts not worth acknowledging, because reality was, they were only maybe’s and what if’s. As much as Oliver liked to deny some bits of reality… he still had to face some.

That’s right, Oliver still needed all the details beyond just himself. Gabriel could have slammed his head on the steering wheel if the roads weren’t so dangerous. A sigh tore through his lips and he kept his eyes locked forward, even as his hands tightened their grip. “Alright, so, don’t freak out or anything,” he let out another sigh, “I’m a Carrington. My mother and father, Cassiopeia and Lee Carrington, own Trium-Veritas. There are ten of us kids. Honestly, if we were actually dating, I’d probably keep this to myself not because I don’t trust you, it’s just… I wouldn’t be ready to reconnect yet. I wouldn’t want to give you any false hope - and I’m an asshole, so.” Gabriel coughed and, turning the trucks light on as they wound through a lengthy tunnel.

“But, since we’re going to see them specifically, it works out ‘cause this is probably the moment I’d tell you all about them,” Gabriel continued with a strained smile and let his eyes dart to glimpse at Oliver’s reaction, “I’m not that great a person. Anyway, they treat us kids as negligent disappointments, so it’s easy to dismiss us. At least, that’s what I like to tell myself; they’re not that bad. As people, they’re pretty decent. As parents, they’re not the best, but they weren’t… the worst. Honestly, they’ll treat you with as much respect as any of their business partners - I’m sure it won’t be too hard to get on their good sides. As for my siblings, they’re all so different, I think you’ll just have to make your own opinion. However, be prepared for a lot of anti-war sentiments directed toward me; they didn’t like that I joined the air force. It’ll bite and sting, but not in the way they think. There’s… a lot I’d like to forget. Leave and let die an ocean away.”

After that, Gabriel let silence settle while they continued their drive through the mountains. The snow laid thick across the peaks, the summits suffocating in heavy, grey clouds. Pines littered sides of the mountain, carved in the rough rock and soil and curved against the steel guards lined across the edge of the road. A number of ‘Watch for falling rock’ signs stood against the gusts of wind and snow. Frost clung heavily to everything, a sheen that glowed even in the overcast sunlight.

It had been no surprise to Oliver that Gabriel came from wealth. He was just given five grand earlier without hesitation. He couldn't really understand not being connected to one’s family but he also understood others had grew up differently, that not all families were like his. He didn't say anything, not feeling like it was his place to say much about Gabriel’s situation, but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted to say anything. Instead, he listened, attempting to be indifferent on the whole matter, but it was hard, especially when Gabriel mentioned his joining the Air Force and them not liking it. The hand on his knee clenched into a fist as he looked out the window so Gabriel wouldn't see his furrowed eyebrows and frown. He wanted to say he understood Gabriel. He hadn't been shoved into the middle of combat, hadn't gone through the same Hell as Gabriel, but damnit, he had still been there. The fact his family might make a few possibly snide comments over that rubbed Oliver extremely wrong. He just hoped nothing was said, because that would hit close to home for him too, and he knew a lot more of what Gabriel went through than they ever would.

The truck gave a low hum through the mountains until it finally came to a stop along the winding, narrow path toward the cabin. Upon spotting the valet, Gabriel cranked the heat up to unbearable and stopped as close as he could to the man. He motioned for Oliver to assist with the luggage, even as a number of maids and butlers came to retrieve them. “All yours,” he said and gestured toward the vehicle. Gabriel let out a huff of laughter at the audible moan from the valet before the truck door slammed shut and he whisked the vehicle off toward the cabin’s garage. The help distributed the luggage between themselves, happy that Gabriel gave aid when he could and made his way inside.

Cold made things far too uncomfortable and his leg squeezed in its brace, the metal and plastic already freezing against his skin. Gabriel coughed and sped up, even as a wayward maid began greeting him. He nodded, thanked her as she opened the door, and allowed her to finish speaking before making his way to an old room of his. It felt almost rude not to explain things to Oliver - how he used slide down the bannister, laughing and squealing and on his way to a huge family dinner. That there’s an alcove in the library that gave a perfect vista of the surrounding area, where the windows were tall enough that he didn’t have to press his face against the glass to see the stars at night. He spent a lot of his time there, a book in his lap and plate of cookies beside him, lip already dripping with milk.

The room they placed him in, his old one, seemed unchanged, though undoubtedly clean. After so many years, he’d expect the place to be piled with dust, but the maids did great work making sure even this old place shined. He frowned at the smallish bed, still large enough for one person to have plenty of room, but two? Possible, but they’d squeeze tight. Gabriel looked toward the corner where a small two seater sofa sat beside a wall of books. He swallowed, seeing the number of physics books lined with C.S. Lewis and Huxley. A pair of star charts served as posters along the walls, still creased from unfolding them from their packages. A laugh broke through his closed throat upon spotting the luminescent stars he’d placed so precisely into constellations across one corner of the room.

Keeping quiet and following Gabriel’s lead felt like the best thing to do. Oliver didn't want to start asking possibly prying questions, didn't want to step over an invisible line. While it may seem like Oliver was doing a huge favor for Gabriel, it was also for himself, too. He was here to pose as Gabriel’s fake fiance. He wasn't the real thing and so, he wasn't going to push past any lines until they had to put on that front of a lovey dovey couple. It helped that Oliver had been in these type of settings before, knew how to behave, so hopefully Gabriel’s family wouldn't eyeball him too hard if he looked comfortable and acted properly.

A knock broke Gabriel out of his reminiscing and he turned to see a petite lady, wide eyed and a little nervous. “Sir, once you’re settled, you’re needed in the parlor for a family greeting.” Once he nodded his assent, she bolted out with a final click of the door. Gabriel turned to Oliver, setting his suitcases on the bed and taking Oliver’s as well.

“I guess we should head down? We’ll have time to unpack later.”

Oliver found himself drawn to the star charts on the wall, lips twitching upward at the sight. The cabin had been amazing, bigger and grander than his own family's, but this room felt… relaxed, almost. Maybe because it was obviously Gabriel’s room from his childhood, the fact one could see his passion on the walls and in the form of books. The knock brought him out of his small musings and he watched the nervous maid; he hadn't grown up with maids or servants, his parents hadn't wanted any even though they could have certainly afforded it, so that was one thing he wasn't quite used too. “Yeah, guess so,” he said and gave another look around before focusing on Gabriel. “Hey, I know we don't know each other that well, and this could be a bit weird but… if anyone says anything upsetting, just… know I'll listen to you, if you need to talk. No judgement here, okay?” he said sincerely, before smiling and putting his hand out with a slight waggle of his eyebrows. “Shall we go now, future husband of mine?”

♦ Through The Pages ♦ (Fairytale Roleplay)

@Vicier Just putting these two here (mostly Bors here for ease of access. So you don't have to look far to look him over either. ^^)

They should both be totally finished! ;D Tell me if there needs to be any changes. would definitely like to keep chris pratt as bors, though, i honestly tried but i can't find anyone better for him

Peter Pevensie

_{Played By: HalfofLancelot}

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_{[ ♜ ] N A M E}

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Peter Pevensie

_{[ ♜ ] O T H E R N A M E S}

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Pete, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Lonely Hermit of Tortuga

_{[ ♜ ] O C C U P A T I O N}

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Former King; Currently Fugitive/Refugee; Hermit; Drunkard

_{[ ♜ ] P L A C E O F O R I G I N}

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London, England, Rivenspire; then Narnia

_{[ ♜ ] A G E}

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26

_{[ ♜ ] A F F I L I A T I O N}

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[Lawful Good]

☖ A lawful good character acts as a good person is expected or required to act. He combines a commitment to oppose evil with the discipline to fight relentlessly. He tells the truth, keeps his word, helps those in need, and speaks out against injustice. A lawful good character hates to see the guilty go unpunished.

Lawful good is the best alignment you can be because it combines honor and compassion.

Lawful good can be a dangerous alignment when it restricts freedom and criminalizes self-interest.

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_{[ ♜ ] A P P E A R A N C E ❮ T H I R T E E N Y E A R S P R I O R - 1 3 ❯}

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_{[ ♜ ] A P P E A R A N C E ❮ P R E S E N T - 2 6 ❯}

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_{[ ♜ ] W A R D R O B E S T Y L E ❮ R I V E N S P I R E ❯}

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At present, Peter's wardrobe consists mostly of what he can find. It never really changes beyond a loose fitting doublet and torn, frayed pants. There's no armor, no gloves, just a ratty pair of boots and even worse for wear brown rag to keep him warm. Honestly, Peter looks like absolute crap and he feels it, too. If his clothes get too worn and messy, he'll often look for a no good, drunk pirate to pick a fight with and take what he's wearing. Doesn't really go with his morals, but Peter finds a way to survive and they mostly deserve the sense beat out of them for... well... being murderers and thieves.

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_{[ ♜ ] R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S}

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Single

_{[ ♜ ] P A R T N E R}

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N / A

_{[ ♜ ] F A T H E R}

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Nathaniel Pevensie

_{[ ♜ ] M O T H E R}

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Helena Pevensie

_{[ ♜ ] S I B L I N G S}

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Susan Pevensie (Deceased)
Edmund Pevensie
Lucy Pevensie

_{[ ♜ ] O T H E R}

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Eustace Scrubb (Cousin)

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_{[ ♜ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y}

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Young, fervent, and so full of life was Peter Pevensie - a model young boy with a bright future. His curiosity drove him to question constantly - he couldn't leave well enough alone. He had to know. Influenced by both his school friends and what society had deemed the staple man, Peter took the lead in any affairs he found himself in. His voice rang the loudest; he stood the tallest. For any kid his age, it'd be easy to turn tail when things took a turn for the worst. Not Peter. Under pressure, Peter Pevensie shown with a confidence and brilliance not inherent in other children. A lion amidst the litter of cats.

So driven by his own morality, Peter had an eye out for any sign of injustice. The moment an opportunity to intervene presented itself, Peter stuck his neck out. To say he lacked subtlety would be an understatement. Young Peter was bold and brash, talk with his chest out and chin high. It gave him a reputation as both a nosy brat and a compassionate leader. To his younger brother, Edmund, however, Peter was just bossy and always thought he knew best. His honesty couldn't deny that; Peter always did like to make sure things went his way.

That curiosity landed him in Narnia and it never sated beyond his initial stay. Not until he found himself trying to pick up the pieces of everything that crashed. Peter hadn't had it in him to set a fire burning. With his sister's death, the second eldest of them all, Peter grew quiet. His world dulled and he found himself quickly wishing his own death. They left Narnia that same day. Peter abandoned himself there, threw off everything he stood for and let himself drop into the sea. His thoughts spiraled with the water and before he knew it, Peter felt himself drowning.

Air didn't come quickly to Peter then. Rebuilding himself was a slow process. On the seas, Peter ran dull and lifeless. He was a grey cloud churning the waters. Life had seem so bright all those years before and now, with everything he tried to build with his friends, his siblings, broken and ashen it all seemed meaningless. And sets himself on a low pedestal, now, oblivious to the wrong doings around him. Peter lives stuck in his past failures and mistakes, things he sees as insurmountable. There's no rage boiling under it, just a sad boy who tried and failed and simply doesn't want to try again. Not yet, not for a long time.

_{[ ♜ ] S T R E N G T H S}

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☖ Swordsmanship - the only individual on par with his talents in melee combat would be his brother, Edmund. Peter has fine swordsmanship, honed through various battles and duels.
☖ Tactician - as a leader, Peter's foresight both prior to battle and under the pressure of immediate combat lands him as one of Narnian's most astute tacticians. He does his best to lead none of his men astray, though he understands the importance of improvisation. He's got a great instinct for when to pull back and when to reengage.
☖ Politics - though Edmund is a great diplomat, Peter finds his skills hide in playing the politician when it comes to dealing with other kingdoms. Knowing what secrets to hide and what people want give him a great advantage. Peter, among his siblings, is likely the most willing to sacrifice in order to gain.
☖ Leadership - Peter's always been at the forefront of current events, always been the individual to help pull and get down in the grime and muck of his people in order to succeed. What more, Peter puts all the burdens, all the blame, all the mistakes on his back - he's their leader, and solely responsible for his people's well being.
☖ Willpower - though Lucy likely has the most sound mind and mental fortitude, Peter's not far behind. Especially when motivated, it's hard to tear Peter down and thus he's less susceptible to any form of mind altering magics.

_{[ ♜ ] W E A K N E S S E S}

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☖ Self-sacrificing - Peter knows that a good leader is hard to come by, but that any leader is just a dime a dozen. He doesn't consider himself a good leader, just a person willing to take the reigns. Thus, he has no qualms with diving head first into a problem because he knows there's always a back up somewhere. Sometimes, a martyr is what people need more than a king.
☖ Destitute - with Narnia in shambles and his sister did, Peter doesn't know what to do with his life anymore. He's fit to blame himself and stay as far away from Narnia or his siblings as possible. He'll only get them killed.
☖ Unsubtle - most of Peter's plans lack a... subtlety to them and they're often overly direct and obvious. He knows tactics, but he doesn't know quite how to be underhanded, even when it comes to battle.
☖ Oblivious - due to his lack of dirty tricks, Peter often goes into a fight thinking everything's going to come out fair. Thus, he's very susceptible to having the wool thrown over his eyes, so to speak.

_{[ ♜ ] M A G I C A L C A P A B I L I T I E S}

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N / A

_{[ ♜ ] W E A P O N S}

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A large, longsword by the name of Rhindon was given to Peter Pevensie by Father Christmas, as a gift. Alongside it, a great shield with a large imprint of a red lion, outlined in gold and cast in sturdy steel serve as his go to weapons. Right now, Peter only has the sword, of which he conceals within a large, tarnished cape, as well as a regular dagger.

_{[ ♜ ] B I O G R A P H Y ❮ R I V E N S P I R E ❯}

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The eldest Pevensie, Peter likely had the easiest time growing up. Perhaps quite a bit had been expected of him, but Peter's natural inclination towards diligence and honest work put him far ahead of most kids his age. Along with his brother, Edmund, he'd been shipped off to boarding school until the Second Great War tore London in two. Most of his time spent had been in studying, though he found great fun with the other boys, who took to Peter with great ease. His personality and his optimism attracted more people than he'd care to brag about, earning him a good reputation along with the usual teenage popularity. Oblivious to his brother's plight, he more than assumed Edmund had a carbon copy of his experiences and didn't look to question his brother's own troubles. Edmund was clever; he'd figure it out.

Once the war hit London, the Pevensies corralled on a train to the country side, away from the rubble and the bombs and the blaring noises. They hadn't quite known the impact, though Peter knew the feeling of fear the day they'd been separated from their parents. He hadn't shown in, knowing full well that the moment Peter cracked, so would his other siblings; Susan would worry, Edmund would throw a tantrum, and Lucy would panic. After all, Peter was the eldest, he'd be their caretaker. He'd make sure they were all safe, just like mum and dad wanted.

Arriving at their country estate, Peter quickly worked to distract his siblings, though Edmund always proved difficult. In doing so, Peter distracted himself and imagined he went a little too far. Lucy came quick from hide and seek, with a tale bigger than she could have possibly woven alone. Edmund was quick to tease and Peter couldn't quite console his sister and her active imagination. Not until she'd shown them herself, at least. Of course, Peter profusely apologized to his sister for not believing her tale, and reprimanded Edmund for being such a petty bully to her.

Their adventure there had turned from a small story into an epic tale within but a few moments. The Pevensies had been swept into an entire new world, rife with conflict, and prophecies. In a rising storm, they'd been tasked with returning Narnia back to what it once was. Determined to right the wrongs and injustices wrought upon the people their, soon to be his own people, Peter was quick to assist along with his other siblings. Though, saddened by Edmund's untimely betrayal, after a spat between them, the brother's quickly resolved their differences and turned toward Narnia's aid with renewed vigor.

Until all of that came crumbling down. Aslan was too late to save their sister. The witch fell her in her fury and quickly turned on each of them next. They'd been swept away from the losing battle by the lion and cast across Rivenspire soon after. Peter found himself in the sea, letting wave after wave batter him into the shore. He'd failed. He deserved the suffocating depths of the sea, though that's not exactly what Aslan had planned for him.

Unable to come to terms with his own failure, Peter wandered what he'd soon come to know as Tortuga for quite some time. Accustomed to the dull ache of his mind and the constant reminders of his past, Peter never moved on. He settled into the cove, with the pirates and the courtesans with no motivation left. No one dared touch him as it was obvious he hadn't much - not a lick of gold and not worth a rat's tail. So, Peter spent the years alone, destitute but still able to drag his feet from here to there. Still able to find some kind of measly dinner and still able to make a name for himself. He hadn't resorted to ruthless, unnecessary violence, but Peter found himself often at the point of a sword once he found some kind of sustenance. Those days he let out whatever emotions he kept bottled inside and afterwards, he'd take what he could get.

Sour, Peter kept to the drowned alleys and shabby taverns. His nights were filled with drunken fights only to wake up that morning gargling blood and aching all over. Losing everything hit Peter hard and it didn't seem quite likely that he'd get up. Not when his sibling could find him. Not when they could drag him back only for him to fail them, yet again.

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_{[ ♜ ] T H E M E}

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Third Eye - Florence + The Machine

<sub>"Hey, look up
You don't have to be a ghost
Hidden amongst the living
You are flesh and blood
And you deserve to be loved
And you deserve what you are given
And oh, how much?

'Cause there's a hole where your heart lies
And I can see it with my third eye.
And oh my touch, it magnifies
You pull away, you don't know why"</sub>

Sir Bors

_{Played By: HalfofLancelot}

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_{[ ⚜ ] N A M E}

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Finneas Bors

_{[ ⚜ ] O T H E R N A M E S}

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Finn, Sir Bors

_{[ ⚜ ] R E A L N A M E}

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Sir Bors de Ganis

_{[ ⚜ ] O C C U P A T I O N}

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Knight of the Round Table

_{[ ⚜ ] P L A C E O F O R I G I N}

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Camelot, Rivenspire

_{[ ⚜ ] A G E}

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[Lawful Good]

☖ Children often think in terms of innocence. Purity lives for as long as a child is willing to close their eyes and keep them shut. That lasted long past adolescence where Bors was concerned. All these knights around him, his own father, Sir Bors the Elder, and his brother, Lionel, portrayed every bit of pride in their arms, in their country, and in their king as the books had portrayed. All those stories his father told him of his adventures with the late Uther gave way to a stark imagination and one ruled by morality most of all. It lived on through his father's untimely death at the hands of Claudas. That kind of treachery, the late coming of Uther's army, and subsequent captivity of the new Lord should have sent his own dreams spiraling to the ground. Finneas Bors, unlike his brother, took advantage of his situation. Claudas allowed him to continue his knight's training and eventually, Bors exacted justice whilst his brother exacted revenge. Claudas still lived, though blood spilled when they took down Dorin, his esteemed son, and fled to Camelot.

In those days before the quest for the Grail, Bors upheld a modicum of respect for the rules set in place. That lived brightly in his display as a knight, among the most renowned in Arthur's court for quite some time. Law meant everything to him. Respect came second. And everything else came after that. Holding some modicum of good remained fervent in his actions, but even then he sacrificed the inherent 'right' choice in order to uphold the rules that bound Camelot.

[Neutral Good]

☖ Later years wouldn't be so kind to Bors sense of morality. The quest for the Grail met with so many disasters and hard givings, so many failures, that it broke Bors down a little at a time. Even then, nature had no rules of its own and the laws in lands far and wild never quite aligned with what Bors considered right and true. Both Galahad and Percival met with as many trials, though their faith never shook as it had in Bors. The irony in that sentence itself proves testament to how frivolous nature can seem. All in all, once they achieved the quest after years spent away, Bors came back alone. The trials proved too hard for young Percival and Galahad had been promised desired death at his choosing. The travels alone had never been documented, not on Bors behalf, at least, and so no one ever knew of the trials he went through. They bore down on him, leaving only room for a middle ground between duty and such dismissive nature that guided folks like the fae. He went with what the world had given him, never once took what was given for granted, and succeeded on his journey home a little wiser, if not worse for wear.

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_{[ ⚜ ] A P P E A R A N C E ❮ T H I R T E E N Y E A R S P R I O R - 1 9 ❯}

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Give a boy the tools to rebel and he won't understand. Give a boy a reason to rebel, and he'll make tools of his own. Young as he was spicy, his attitude reflected his appearance. A curt young lad with a penchant for disrespect, his young features pinched in snarls and scowls almost perpetual. A smile never settled on the curve of his lips and the lines mottling his forehead didn't come from aging. Bors stood tall, his full 6'2" height, chest puffed, and posture aggressive. His surroundings had no room for weakness and the fire in him only further sparked his heavy steps. Training lined him with lean muscle, sharpening already high cheekbones and squaring his jaw. Every bit of Bors at 19 had been reared for a fight - a wolf with his muzzle raised in a snarl. Yet, despite this readiness, Bors never lashed out unduly - every bit of him only reared back in preparation. He wouldn't be the one to swing first and it was evident in the wariness of his steps, the wide berth he gave people. Or rather, the berth people gave him. A massive wall of muscle bounding its way down a corridor didn't bode well for those too stubborn to let him pass.

_{[ ⚜ ] A P P E A R A N C E ❮ P R E S E N T - 3 2 ❯}

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Years have worn this old Mastiff. The creases along his pale skin come from tribulation this time, his demeanor far too mellowed out to cast unwarranted scowls. His eyes fall heavy with bags and, though a healthy glow lights his face, Bors walks with an inevitable exhaustion. His foot falls come heavy and pounding, his body always moving to crack or pop a joint. The muscles of his chest heave great sighs, pushing the air out in one exhaustive pulse. Yet, even in his stress, this older, wizened Bors always has room for a smile - a crackling of tooth between chapped lips. Age and exhaustion can't quite stop the oddly mellow chipperness to his attitude and the rising lilt of his voice. They sink between the cracks in his own skin, the scars along each part of his body, and light Bors up even in the dull afterglow of overwork. He never shies away from an act of kindness, even if it's just a funny jokes.

Despite this, the world's constant pounding against his back has coiled Bors into a reactive hound. When provoked or otherwise in need of necessary force, Bors uncoils like a serpent and strikes at an alarming rate. Age hasn't bitten into his bones yet, even if his visible persona alludes to such. He becomes a mountain of a man, all growls and snarls and biting tongue. If it's not his sword that's swinging, it's no doubt his words. Perhaps a hound or a serpent don't do this man justice. Bors is every bit a bear both in nature and in looks.

_{[ ⚜ ] W A R D R O B E S T Y L E ❮ R I V E N S P I R E ❯}

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Not a very fashion savvy individual, Bors is mostly seen toting around in leathers and a loose doublet, with a pair of boots to go with. He hasn't a knack for looking... with it, as it were, and it's quite obvious from his lack of care in his attire. The only thing Bors has going for himself is that he, at least, looks rather clean - and he is! Bors prides himself on his hygiene. Cleanliness is close to Godliness, after all. But, other than that, really, Bors has absolutely no mind for spiffing it up and would rather wear comfort clothes when outside of his armor. That thing gets incredibly musty, hot, and sticks to fabric which sticks to his skin. So, outside of it, he goes to great lengths in order to feel nice and relaxed. That often comes in the form of loose fitting shirts, comfy pantaloons, and a pair of boots that go untied more often than not. Maybe a nice cap when the sun's a little too high for his liking.

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_{[ ⚜ ] R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S}

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Single - Technically Celibate

_{[ ⚜ ] P A R T N E R}

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N / A

_{[ ⚜ ] F A T H E R}

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King Charles Bors the Elder - Deceased, killed by Claudas. Ruled lands far from Uther's reach.

_{[ ⚜ ] M O T H E R}

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Lady Evaine - Deceased, sister to Elaine, who birthed Lancelot, making Lancelot Bors' Cousin.

_{[ ⚜ ] S I B L I N G S}

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Lionel - Alive, knight of the round table, exiled for killing Sir Calogrenant and his hermit in a fit of rage against his brother.

_{[ ⚜ ] P E T S}

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Rhiannon - a lovely horse he's had for years; she's so named after the goddess of inspiration.

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_{[ ⚜ ] P E R S O N A L I T Y}

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A man of great virtue and honor, also a man that has more than enough spitfire to bring a manor to it's foundations. As a young lad, under his father's ruling, Bors' mind leaped in grand imaginative strokes. Riddled with stories of knightly adventures with dragons and wizards, witches and thieves, his father instilled into Bors a sense of wonderment that never ceases to this day. With his brother in tow, Bors set out for adventures of all kinds - his curiosity never sated. Yet, what his father inspired in him hadn't been the frivolity of adventures, wandering through the world slaying dragons and monsters. More so, he simply allowed Bors to ignite within himself his own sense of right and wrong. King Bors the Elder never told his son anything outright, but merely allowed him the opportunity to experience and learn himself.

In that, Bors gained compassion and a respect for the laws knights of his home upheld. And when it came time to put that attitude to the test, Bors never failed or fell to temptation once. Claudas wanted a lot from both brothers, knowing full well just what great tools and weapons they could become in his regime. Thus, they came under captivity but only in name and boundaries. Neither brother could leave the premises of the castle, yet Claudas treated them as if he sired them himself. Bors took advantage of Claudas' treatment, using whatever resources he could to exploit weaknesses and train himself as he would under his father's rule, plus a little added 'umph' for good measure.

In doing so, Bors closed in on himself, treating Claudas' people with a coldness none close to him had witnessed. What Bors discovered was a great knack for a biting wit. If he couldn't slay these men with a sword, he'd do so with his tongue alone. The longer his captivity stretched, the more Claudas' men clung to the walls as he neared. They wanted nothing to do with Bors and that would aid him should he ever truly enact his rebellion. Yet, in all his time spent under a wrongful king, Bors never lashed out until the very end and even then, his plan hadn't been so much revenge as it had escape. Claudas had no reign over him. He couldn't say much for his brother, who seethed and toiled in his chains. What Lionel wanted was Claudas' head on a pike and his people strung in a line of corpses. That rage fueled his brother's actions and led to the eventual death of Claudas son, rather brutally.

Upon escape, Bors allowed himself a chance to breathe. No longer stifled by the burning chains and closing bars, Bors was free to truly embrace the life he wanted. Under Arthur's rule and round table, Bors found a place among what he'd call family, though they had no real tie to him aside from his brother and Lancelot. Even then, Bors kept his wit and charm, nipping rather than biting at his compatriots whenever the opportunity arose. And Bors loved to take advantage his clever tongue. Even drunk and half-asleep, not many could match the speed at which Bors through half-baked insults and retorts. So maybe in his own mind, but a sober Bors did lash out in a wicked tongue whenever he could - even if some of his attempts fell flat.

As age caught up, Bors eventually mellowed out. With a heaping ton of quests and trials on his back, along with the weight of his brother's angry betrayal (of which he blames himself for), Bors often finds himself in a relaxed state. Akin to a cat, Bors takes his naps seriously and often. Also like a cat, Bors takes to nipping at those who dare to disturb him - though never heartfelt in his gripes, he often calls back in order to apologize and allow whoever interrupted to go about their business. Currently, he takes to the world as the world wishes, simply going along with the winds, so to speak. It could very well be attributed to a laziness, but Bors does as much work as any other lad and lass that don the knightly mantle, if not more, at times. He just has a subtlety about him that people often find surprising, even as they're be mildly humiliated by his tongue-in-cheek methods of joking.

_{[ ⚜ ] S T R E N G T H S}

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☖ Unpredictable - Bors delights in seeming the unwitting opponent, when suddenly that slouched and worn figure turns into a hulking two hundred pound bear of a man about to piledrive you into a quarry. Yeah, he likes surprises and he uses subtlety to his advantage.
☖ Compassion and Reliability - In times of need, Bors is one of those individuals you can count on to take a stand and to do it for the right reasons.
☖ Vigilance - Always a spring loaded and read to fire, it's very difficult to find Bors with his guard down. A trip to retrieve the grail and bring it back alone tends to leave a man ready to bolt into action at a moment's notice.

_{[ ⚜ ] W E A K N E S S E S}

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☖ Paranoid - With vigilance comes constant surveillance. The stress piled on from always be at the ready wears Bors down a little bit at a time.
☖ Solo Figure - Bors doesn't have much in the way of tactics when he has to account for more than just himself. Don't give him an army 'cause he won't know what do with it.
☖ Magic - Having no magical background nor latent knowledge of magic leaves Bors with a stark weakness towards it.

_{[ ⚜ ] M A G I C A L C A P A B I L I T I E S}

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N / A

_{[ ⚜ ] W E A P O N S}

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A man like him needs a fitting weapon. Like most knights, Bors carries around a shield, though it doesn't see much use as his main weapon requires the use of both hands. A hulking warhammer roughly standing about 3/4s the size of him and quite heavy to boot. It's pretty standard in make, though sturdier than most metals and woods. Nothing quite special. He does carry a small dagger when he's unable to use the warhammer, whether due to his lack of room or need for agility and speed over brute force. The shield's mostly for arrows anyways - the idea is to not use his face to stop a sword, but rather to move away from it.

_{[ ⚜ ] B I O G R A P H Y ❮ R I V E N S P I R E ❯}

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Simple and normal upbringing, though instead of a regular father, he got a king. So, mostly normal. Normal in the sense that nothing really outstanding or awful happened for a god few years within his family. Outside, he can't really say. Tragedy doesn't really have great timing. For Bors and his brother, tragedy hit pretty early, but not before their father could instill a few virtues, at the least, within them. Claudas took no mercy on the people his father had ruled over - a small piece of land quite far from Uther's reach, despite being well and good friends with his father. With Bors the Elder slain and a kingdom under his hand, Claudas did much to change how things were to be handled. Both Bors and his brother Lionel had been taken under captivity and raised in Claudas' court.

Despite their lack of actual harm - Claudas treated both boys like royalty - both brothers had known their father and mother well enough to not succumb to trickery. Even as impressionable children, Bors had already grown into his own morals and ideals. Right and wrong mattered to him. Lionel, on the other hand, didn't quite appreciate the murder of his father and didn't take to the teachings his father instilled into Bors quite as well. Things didn't stick well with Lionel ever, really. His goal had been revenge, while Bors' goal had been escape.

Years of tutelage under Claudas and self-teaching gave both brothers the tools to leave. They rebelled and took their fate into their own hands. Unfortunately for Lionel, that meant bashing as many heads in as he could on his way out. If he couldn't have Claudas head on a pike, he'd at least take something that truly mattered to him. Bors couldn't stop Dorin's murder, something he often looks back on in a guilt he can't quite shake off. However, after the sword had been felled whilst Bors prepped their escape, he got the both of them out without so much as a scratch. Or, well, a few scratches, but that was mostly Lionel's fault.

The trip to Uther's land had been arduous, mostly, lacking much peril aside from bandits who mistook them for simple travelers. Arriving, it came as quite a surprise when news of Uther's death came to them; they sought court with the king, currently Arthur. Upon admittance, both brothers proved their worth to the new king and found themselves swearing their fealty as Knights to his service. It took a great deal to earn his trust and respect, but Bors considered it worth it. No fiercer ally than Arthur Pendragon and no one as loyal, either. There, quests came aplenty and though both brothers often found each other separated, Bors came to find more than just his brother family. He couldn't quite say the same for Lionel, however. That level of camaraderie carried Bors far, through many battles and many journeys, until it eventually landed him on the quest for the Grail. With young Percival in tow and a fair, pure, and experienced Galahad leading the front, the quest seemed quite a bit less daunting.

However, it didn't get better from that. In fact, it got quite a deal worse. The trials each knight had been put through shook not only their faith, but tore at their minds and brought their ideals crumbling to the ground. Bors, though his will had always been unshakable, found himself burdened and stressed by each tribulation they'd been put through. Eventually, it culminated to the decision of saving his brother from a quest gone terribly wrong, or a maiden his brother had dragged into his own affairs. Morality eventually won over family, and he saved the innocent life over that of his brother. This infuriated him, rightfully so, and upon finding Bors after his escape, Lionel lashed out. Feeling so deserving of this rage, Bors did nothing to stop him and the act eventually drew the attention of Sir Calogrenant who fell to Lionel's sword. So blinded by anger, Lionel wouldn't stop until his vendetta would be sated and it took Bors incapacitating him to accomplish that. He reconvened with both Percival and Galahad after his detour and they both continued their journey, worse for wear, for the grail.

Eventually, they came upon it and in their time spent spelunking the cavern it had been hidden in, the world seemed to change and definitely not for the better. Percival lost his life, or was at least lost to the cavern, whilst Galahad, once the Grail had been retrieved and they made their way back, eventually gave his own life, as well. Arriving alone, with but a mystic cup in hand, Bors didn't quite fit the same anymore. With the news of further calamity and a new, cruel ruler covering Rivenspire, Bors seemed... defeated. He still stood by Arthur's side, still fought ferocious, but everything seemed to go wrong as he aged. Maybe wisdom came at the price of a good, well meaning life. Maybe he didn't quite deserve that. Not yet, at least.

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❯ ❯ ❯ ❯ ❯ ❯ ❯ ❯ ❯

❮ ❮ ❮ ❮ ❮ ❮ ❮ ❮ ❮

_{[ ⚜ ] T H E M E}

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Hymn for the Weekend - Coldplay

_{"Oh, angel sent from up above
You know you make my world light up
When I was down, when I was hurt
You came to lift me up
Life is a drink and love's a drug
Oh now I think I must be miles up
When I was a river dried up
You came to rain a flood"}

The Office

i'ma slip in here if that's okay. ;D

♦ Through The Pages ♦ (Fairytale Roleplay)

I'm so hoping the Narnian folks aren't dead. I need Edmund now to defend his honor. :P

@Morose

SO JUST CONFIRMING.

You want Edmund, if the Pevensies get to live? ;o

♦ Through The Pages ♦ (Fairytale Roleplay)

I'm a hipster and read the books first. Ehehehe.

But, yeah Edmund doesnt get better until Dawn Treader but I think that's in part because Eustace mirrors his trashiness from the past books and it kinda makes him realize, "oh, damn, I was a little shit." But also, Edmund kinda realizes it's the end of his journey there, so he's gotta make the best of it. I'm pretty sure he still does something stupid in the middle, though. Par for the course for that Pevensie.

The thing is, Eustace made the same character development in less time than Edmund, so by default, he's still an ass. I'm pretty sure Eustace is a better person by the start of the Silver Chair, all the way to the Magician's Nephew.

(It's been so long since I've read them. I need to read them again. But also all these memories coming back to me. *sobs* Those books were my childhood)

♦ Through The Pages ♦ (Fairytale Roleplay)

@McHaggis hEY HE'S JUST A KID. He gets 10x better in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, where Eustace usurps the title of Trash King 2000.

"Oh no I'ma dragon the travesty." whINE MORE KID.

♦ Through The Pages ♦ (Fairytale Roleplay)

Aw, hey, woulda jumped on the Narnia bandwagon I read all the books in the order C.S. Lewis preferred cause I'm a nerd like that. Woulda snatched up Edmund, that damn cutie.

STARLIGHT [1980s Coming of Age Sci-Fi]

Phoebe Jasmine Sauron?

Wow what is she a nerd? Reading the Hobbit and LotR like a nerd. Nerd. *scoffs*

♦ Through The Pages ♦ (Fairytale Roleplay)

@Roosan HEY HEY HEY _{i'll let Haggis be the deciding factor, but if she doesn't wanna, I'll be more than happy.}