Okay, I promised CxE... Here is some CxE.

Cedric grinned with a raw elation as Elyon's wide eyes shone, with unknowing innocence, paired with sheer pleasure of the magnitudinous task of taking in each exhibit of every shimmering jewel and golden crest. She was too good to touch though; the only slight damp on Cedric's glee being that her amity was keeping her arms strictly by her sides - while he'd honestly hoped she'd touch her dirty little fingers on everything - not even moving them from their rigid position when she obeyed his shepherding finger, which beconed her to sit on the expensive, silken tapestry cushioned stool that rested infront of the desk and rather becoming mirror. And then the reason they came here, well Elyon's reason of course (a reason he was grateful to have paraded itself to him), slid once again down Elyon's arm in the form of a velvety sleeve and Elyon looked at it as though it was foreign; her eyes dazed and glassy. "Oh.. I.."

"Your mother was very fond of fine things, Elyon." Cedric let his long fingers slide over incredible jewels and golds which almost shone pink. Over silvery blues that seemed to match the very room, and of brassy bracelets which had been delicately made so thin they might snap if picked up too forcefully. Cedric let his long fingers slide over these things, creating patterns in the thin, yet encasing dust of the table, smiling again, but not revealing the malice which amused him so. It was humorous, after all, that he would let Elyon believe the late Queen was vapid as she, failing to mention how these items were treasured for the value of her husband, Prince Vasilis, having had been the one to present her with these items, and that appreciation was never once for any items astetic value. But Cedric wasn't in search for Vasilis' gifts of generousity. No. Lord Cedric was looking for a gift, far more appropriate for his princess. Lord Cedric was looking for a gift of love.

A single brooch that his eyes finally rested on, on the opening of a thick, solid box of iron. Funny that, like a prison's bars. Locking away a heart. His fingers; clasped around the heavy lid of the box, with the care as though it were glass, his fingers pressed the lid onto the table, again distrubing dust; Cedric revelling in Elyon's eyes following his every quaking movement (were he to be quaking, though of Cedric only came the feeling of calm mixed with gluttony - from his indulgence of these acts) as he silently let go of the steady lid and let fingers caress and sweep the box's edge until he saw in the corner of his eye Elyon biting her lip.

Anticipation was always the best part of a show, and Elyon's arms moved, one hand let go of the clasp on her sketchbook as she pushed it to the side of the desk, and Cedric ventured into the box, to pull out the bronzing brooch. It held the perfect orange shine of an item never previously touched, and Lord Cedric felt the bliss of smooth, cold copper on his skin as he swept the flat of his thumb over it's untainted surface. It was a tretcherous thing if Prince Phobos saw it; better yet if he would know it's true origin. And if then she were to break or scratch or contaminate this item, Cedric would love to see Phobos boil. After all that he'd done to Cedric with the murmurers, and his work, and the torment of never knowing if he was to live or even if life was the better option. But Phobos couldn't touch him now. Not with his precious power in his useless sister. Phobos truely did not see how useful such a girl could be. And he had given her to Cedric with his bare hands and free mind. Cedric's thin, paled fingers worked quickly, ignoring the silght startled noise of Elyon when he came up behind her; his arms crossing over her shoulders and the cool metal and his hands pressing closer to his chest than he know he ought to. In silence he clipped the brooch and her parted robe together, so that it clung once again, but now far more gracing and enhancingly to her small, barely developing frame. Her face was at the mirror, but he knew her eyes were on his hands, which he accordingly brought upon her shoulders. "You look fit for a Queen now."

...

It looked grim, in the foggy skies of Heatherfield's early afternoon, but Hay Lin gleamed as she tugged along her best friend, and a boy she would now claim to anyone as her brother; Caleb was frowning slightly as he strode forward a little too quickly and Hay Lin knew he was thinking. In fact, when he was in thought like this, it was almost certainly of Will, and his face would even more certainly look as grim as the skies. He didn't much seem to like Will. "You do realize that she doesn't want to see you.. Or talk to you..?"

"Then she can close her eyes and shut her mouth and it'll finally be possible for me to get my word in, týchi mou sta teleftaío." Hay Lin tilted her head, wondering what to say to that, but Irma raised an eyebrow and she knew that Irma was having one of those few rare moments when she actually felt the need to enquire some information. She didn't even look like she was going to be sarcastic.

"Why do you do that?"

Caleb, who's eyes had been forced face-forward the entire journey so far, swiveled down to Irma, and his forceful pace slowed. "Do what?"

And then Irma stopped and Hay Lin had to take two steps back, because the entire debut to the pool seemed to stop just to hear this. "You talk like that sometimes, but you really hardly ever say anything in that.. ..not most of the time."

Everything went quiet then, and Caleb was once again in thought, though now more contented and Hay Lin knew it from when he'd sit with her and tell her the answers to her questioning the ethics in Meridian. It was her grandma who had asked her to talk to him, but in the end it had been fairly interesting that when he gave her his own opinion, the continuos pausing was clearly where she ought insert a swear, and overall he was fairly agitated by the idea of a God, and only ever tried to use their 'Pal-something' in vain. Caleb didn't believe in praying - not the real kind when you would actually be seeking some guidance or assistance. But now he stood thinking in the same way, and Hay Lin wondered if he'd swear now that Irma was here. He certainly didn't bother to save Will's ears, and now never spoke an insult directly to her unless he knew she was listening. He'd told Hay Lin that with a grin, and Hay Lin was not in anyway denying how she lapped up his words. He was truely a rolemodel in the face of conversation. "I don't know."

"Oh." It was Irma who said it, but as they moved onward Hay Lin saw that the word had verbalized her disappointment. Usually his logic was inspiringly eccentric, and that was coming from Hay Lin who would not go to school unless none of her clothes matched. "Well what did you say then, because it sounded pretty sarcastic, and you know you shouldn't even bother trying to outwit m..."

týchi mou sta teleftaío - 'my luck at last' (finally he'll be able to speak)

Again, this is it, but I do this with full intent to post two chapters tomorrow AND on Sunday.