Of Sighs and Hope
Word Count: 250
The Lord gazed down the dais at his daughter, eyes expectant, filled with hope.
"How was your last visit with Raizel?"
"The same as the previous one."
Raskreia's monotone served to melt away the Lord's smile. His lips stretched thinly, lines of exasperation bleeding into his eyes.
"Do not tell me you simply stared at each other for the duration of your visit then left without exchanging further words?"
Brows slightly knitted, confusion slipped within Raskreia's expressionless features.
"Yes."
A weary sigh spilled into the royal chamber as the Lord slumped back into his throne.
"This daughter of mine…" Another sigh, dipped in resignation. Then his stare bored into hers, displeased, if a bit accusing. "How can you be so clueless?"
Neck slanted to the side, Raskreia appeared even more confused, and a little offended, if she wished to admit it.
"I don't understand, father. Your instructions didn't include anything else. Was there another purpose to my visit that I was unaware of?"
"Well, yes, of course." The Lord paused for a moment, waiting for Raskreia to realize his hidden intentions – in vain. Another sigh vibrated in his throat, tangled with his words, as he gave the answer she couldn't grasp herself. "You were supposed to become closer with Raizel."
Raskreia pondered quietly for a few seconds then nodded.
"I understand, father. On my next visit, I will sit beside the Noblesse, not opposite of him."
In that moment, all hope abandoned the Lord.
I will never see a grandchild…
Of Stiffness and Fashion
Word Count: 100
Krasis leveled his son with a hard stare, too serious.
"You must not become stiff like me, Karias. For our Lord's sake, I will strive to make you the less stiff noble in Lukedonia."
Spine straight, Karias hollered in reply.
"I will not disappoint you, father. For our Lord's sake, I will try hard."
Gejutel shook his head at the peculiar sight the Blerster family presented. In the palace training grounds, dressed in shirts laced with frills, both Krasis and Karias were immersed in exercises for flexibility.
"I do not think the Lord was referring to physical stiffness…or fashion sense."
Of Scars and Pride
Word Count: 250
Raizel stared out his window as Muzaka kept explaining how he had gotten all the scars marring his body.
"Some female challenged me for my title. You should have seen her, all sweating and panting. I got distracted and she landed a scratch." Muzaka laughed, self-satisfied, as if he had enjoyed that fight then slung off his jacket, trailing his fingers across a scar on his back. "– and this one is from when I fell off a cliff when I was young. I really thought I could leap all the way across…"
Not bothering to redress, he smirked, unperturbed by Raizel's indifference to the whole matter. "So, do you have any?"
His question was met with silence, not even a twitch of Raizel's lips. Slightly aggravated, Muzaka growled under his breath.
"You being the Noblesse and all, you must have some scars from breaking off fights between nobles and such." Silence reigned supreme. Muzaka finally lost his patience and lunged towards Raizel, trying to unbutton his jacket. "Don't be shy, and show me!"
Raizel blinked once at the sudden assault, but before he could react, the doors were slammed open, and the Lord barged in.
"Uh, this isn't what it looks lik-"
Muzaka scratched his head as he tried to explain, but the Lord wasn't listening.
"Raizel." The Lord stared into Raizel's eyes, crimson clashing, indignation rolling off of him in thick waves, then broke out in a pitiful cry. "How could you reject my daughter over Muzaka?!"