+ Fallacy, a 100themes Challenge +
Sarehptar
Theme: 33, Expectations
Characters: Cesia, Rath, Kharl, Garfakcy, Sinistra, Zouma
Pairing: Rath/Cesia. X3
Warnings: The strangest AU you will ever read. The setting honestly makes no sense; don't try to figure my crazy head out.
Need to Know Info: The first in a set of three stories revolving around "Prom". Will be continued as Theme 58, Kick in the Head.
Title Provider: Dani California (Red Hot Chili Peppers)
She's a Lover, Baby, and a Fighter... Should've Seen it Coming...
"Rath?" She jabbed at his side with a lacquered purple nail, stifling a smile as he wriggled just out of her reach again. "You did ask your father about the limo, right?"
"I… uh…" The dark-haired boy across from her shifted his feet through the emerald grass as if the undersides of the blades might offer an answer. "Well, maybe he won't want to spend that much money."
Cesia blinked golden eyes in his direction, once, twice. "Your family is loaded! You probably already own a limo."
"We don't own a limo," Rath muttered, but there was a fair deal of uncertainty in his voice.
"You could probably afford one with the change in your pocket." As much as she had come to love him (to hate him, she swore), Cesia had never quite forgiven the dark-haired boy for being a prince—figuratively. The fact that she had so little only threw more light on his incredible privileges. Rath was the beloved son of a scientific genius, the private pupil of Headmaster Lykouleon, and if one more teacher called him 'a good kid, despite circumstances' she might just gag. Still, despite circumstances, she'd actually come to enjoy spending time with Rath. He was fun to argue with, if nothing else.
"You're sure there's no way Rune can get the limo?" Rath's red eyes (a strange color, she'd always thought, but then who was she to talk?) squinted into the sun; a visible pout plucked at his lips. "I could give him the money."
"Minors need parental signatures on the rental agreement."
"Oh," Rath didn't say anything more. It was an unwritten rule: one must never speak of Rune's parents, least of all to Rune. "Well," he offered at last, "what about Thatz?" The look Cesia shot him, over the edge of her fashion magazine, was stunningly cold.
"Even if Thatz actually spent any of money you'd give him on the limo, don't you think his mother would want to know where all that cash came from?"
"He could just tell the truth—it came from me."
"And wouldn't she wonder why your father isn't the one signing off on a limo you're paying for?"
"I just… I can't ask my dad!" Rath huffed noisily, blowing his black and white bangs askew. Cesia could see he was quickly declining into one of his childish tantrums.
"And why not?" It was a deliberate attempt to incense him: she was very much in the mood for a row. Unfortunately, Rath chose that moment to pull back, becoming flustered with embarrassment rather than frustration.
"If I ask for a limo… I'll have to tell him I'm going to the Prom."
"What?! You didn't even tell him that?" Cesia stared incredulously; Rath wriggled a little farther away, in anticipation of her outburst. "I know you said you couldn't tell him about me because he didn't want you dating, but Rath, this is the Prom! Parents are supposed to look forward to this night. High school memories and growing up and 'Aw, my baby looks so cute all dolled up!'"
Rath choked suddenly, hacking and coughing in a most unsettling way. "My father better never say anything like that," he glowered after regaining his composure.
"You know what I mean! Do you really think he wouldn't let you go?"
"No, I just don't think he'd approve of…" As if realizing the direction his sentence was taking, the dark-haired boy clammed up sharply—but not before Cesia figured things out.
"You don't think your dad would approve of me? Because I'm not some rich, spoiled princess?!" The snarl in her voice was almost caustic.
"Uh!" Rath sat up quickly, flailing his hands in a placating manner, "he just has very high expectations of people and—"
"So I'm good enough for you, but not your family?!" She leapt to her feet, all indignant rage and flouncing skirt. "Hey you—Rath's driver," she shouted and tromped down the hill toward the waiting silver Benz. The chauffeur, an innocent purple-haired young man, looked out the window nervously, not quite sure what to make of the one-woman-force-of-destruction quickly approaching. Rath trailed behind her, trying and failing to slow the black-haired monster down.
"Cesia, we're not goin—"
"Take me to Rath's house, right now!" Without waiting for the man to hold the door, Cesia ripped the handle back and slammed herself roughly into the seat.
"You don't want to meet my—"
"Sit down and shut up!" She pulled Rath into the car by his tie.
"Master Rath, what should I do?" The driver peered nervously at the pair through the rear-view mirror.
"Zouma don't go—OWW! Cesia, your nails are stabbing me!"
"I know," she smirked, tightening her furious pinch even further.
"Ugh, just do as she says!"
x x x
Cesia had visited Rath's "house" on more than one occasion ('smuggled in and smuggled out with no chance of being seen or seeing' was probably a more accurate description), but the place never ceased to amaze her.
While other rich people could claim to live in "houses like castles", Rath really did live in a castle—with turrets and everything. The building was set far back on acres and acres of jungle-like forest punctured by random and shockingly well-kept gardens. Cesia had found the entire affair eccentric, but she couldn't deny its beauty. Perhaps the only thing she did dislike about the place was its gate: a ridiculous mix of iron and gilt, with a word scrawled over its top in what appeared to solid, molded silver. And she wasn't quite sure why the fence read "Arinas", when Rath's last name was Illuser. Still, standing out there and looking in, it really felt like staring into another dimension…
"Thanks Zouma." Rath sighed when they had clambered out of the car parked near the front steps.
"You're not really taking her to see Master Kharl, are you?" The young man peered over the edge of the tinted window nervously.
"Yes, he is!" Cesia dragged Rath backward up the front steps by his starched white collar. She rammed the gold plated doorbell repeatedly, waiting hardly a second between insistent rings.
"Rath, if you ring that bell one more time I'm gonna beat the—" a young voice filtered through the doors, just before one was yanked violently open.
"Oh." Cesia said it first, followed shortly by the much smaller, furious boy just inside the threshold. "Rath," she turned to look at her companion, who was bashing his forehead repeatedly into his palm, "you didn't tell me you had a little brother!"
"What?!" The green-eyed boy said it first, followed shortly by Rath.
"He's our maid," the dark-haired teenager growled.
"I prefer housekeeper!"
"This little kid? Aren't there laws against that?" Cesia's index finger hovered dangerously close to Garfakcy's face, and for a moment, the servant looked tempted to bite it off.
"Who are calling 'little', you hussy?!"
"What did you just—"
"Get out of the way Garfakcy," Rath clonked the shorter boy on the head, "or I'll tell my dad you were slacking off."
"He wouldn't believe you," the maid smirked but followed the order nonetheless, returning to the task of sweeping the entrance hall.
"Your dad must be pretty stingy if the only hired help he's willing to pay is some sweatshop kid," Cesia eyes roved while her mouth stayed on the topic. She'd never had a decent chance to look around before, and the just the opening chamber was enough to stun her.
"My dad doesn't pay Garfakcy… and he's really not a kid." Rath's voice shattered her admiration of the frescoed walls, bringing wide a golden gaze back to him.
"Your maid is a midget?! A slave labor midget!" Cesia gawked.
Garfakcy's green eyes glared poisonously at the girl from the far corner of the room.
"He's not a midget either. My dad keeps him eternally young with these creepy pills…"
Cesia blinked once, twice, and then giggled brightly. "You come up with the weirdest stories sometimes." For a moment, it looked as if Rath might contradict her, but then he just sighed and started across the room.
"Rath!" a cheery voice called somewhere above them, stopping both teenagers in their tracks. Cesia jerked her head up in time to catch a pale blur—that vaulted over the third floor's railing and free fell toward the hard marble floor tens of feet below. AHH, it's a suicide! she had just long enough to think, before her terror was cut stunningly short. Instead of slamming painfully into the tiles, the man's descent slowed in mid-air (Impossible!) and he floated to a quiet landing before them. "Welcome home!"
WHITE! Cesia couldn't think anything else—because the strange man was so very WHITE! that it was almost painful. His hair was a dark shade of white (with lilac tones too, she amended), his skin was white (even whiter than Rath, who was quite pale), and his clothes were such an immaculate white that they shone, even in the shadowed room. In fact, she wasn't sure if they even were clothes: it looked like he'd woken up that morning and decided to take the bed sheet with him. He blinked pale eyes (Almost white!) slowly in their direction.
"Good morning… Father," Rath droned, bracing himself for tide of trouble that was about to be unleashed.
"Wait, this guy is your dad?!" Oblivious to manners, Cesia gaped unabashedly. Lilac eyes blinked again, and then narrowed—but only for a second, before a gentle smile covered everything up.
"Who's your… friend, Rath?"
"This is Cesi—"
"You really are Rath's dad?" She had expected someone… scarier. Tall, dark and evilly mysterious? Maniacal laughter? Foot long fangs and forked tongue? Evil Dictator Voice, even! He was tall, and his canine teeth did seem a little more pointy than normal, but other than that, Rath's father seemed generally likeable. His hair and fashion sense were as eccentric as his castle, but if she had to sum him up in a word, Cesia would certainly have chosen "cute", in a cockatoo way…
"Yes, that's what the birth certificate says." The man shifted his weight from foot to foot, taking a good measure of the girl in front of him.
"Well then, hello Mr. Illu—"
"C-Cesia, don't say that!" Rath's voice cut her off, but not in time. For a moment, she watched a terrifying and cold expression flash across the taller man's face. It was quickly replaced by a false cheer.
"Call me Kharl," the man chuckled (and was that a dark undertone she was detecting?), "just Kharl."
"Err, okay… Kharl… I'm Cesia! I'm Rath's gi—OW!" She jerked her foot from under Rath's insistent and heavy boot, "I'm Rath's friend from school! He was talking about you, and I thought it was strange that I'd never got to see his house, so I asked if I could come home with him today." She smiled brightly, as innocently as possible. For a moment, Kharl stared solemnly, and she was sure he was seeing straight through her lie, but then he clapped his hands (white gloves!) and gave her what seemed like a genuine smile.
"Garfakcy," he called across the room, "would you please check on things downstairs for me?"
"Yes Master Kharl." The boy propped his broom against the wall and disappeared as if by magic.
"Now," Kharl spun on his heel, "why don't I give you a tour, Cesia?"
"Yes, please." She fell into step after him; Rath trailed behind, wondering which monster was going to bow first… "Rath," the girl hissed from the corner of her mouth, "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. Your father is weird."
"Through this hall is the observatory, and through that way is Rath's wing of the castle." Kharl purposefully ignored the third hallway, and its descending spiral path.
"What's downstairs?" Cesia stopped before the downward stairs, peering into the almost ominous Cloud of Darkness® conveniently obscuring all but the first steps.
"Curiosity killed the cat." The lilac-haired man's voice roiled cold and macabre over her shoulder. She spun around, smiling as brightly as could be forced.
When he had begun to walk again, she muttered "but satisfaction brought it back" under her breath.
"This way leads to—" A sudden explosion shook the castle, rattled the stained glass windows, and sent chips of frescoed plaster down around them. "Garfakcy!" Rath's father shouted apologetically towards the basement steps, "I completely forgot! I meant to write two teaspoons of Arsenic!"
"HOW DO YOU CONFUSE TEASPOONS WITH CUPS?!"
Arsenic? Cesia gulped.
x x x
"And this," Kharl flung open a pair of wide French doors, "is the dining hall!" Looks more like a concert hall, she grumbled to herself. The room could have comfortably seated an entire symphony orchestra, except that a massive mahogany table ran through its middle. Though there were elegant taffeta-upholstered chairs running the length of the table, Cesia couldn't imagine ever having so many people in one place. And with such as eccentric man as its keeper, she highly doubted the castle had much company.
Kharl settled at the table, white cloak (bed sheet!) spilling over the delicately carved edges of the chair. Rath took the familiar place at his father's right, leaving Cesia warring between hiding beside him or braving a place next to Kharl. Determination sparked, and she plunked unceremoniously down on the pale man's left.
"Garfakcy," the lilac-haired man called again, and Cesia was not sure why—they were now much too far from the basement steps to be heard. "Garfakcy, you can leave that for a moment, we need tea served in the dining hall." To her utter amazement, the maid seemed not only to have heard, but had no trouble replying.
His voice filtered into the room, only a little muffled. "What should I do with the arsenic?"
Kharl leveled a sharp stare in Cesia's direction. "Bring that up too."
Garfakcy did not immediately appear, obviously having gone off the enormous kitchens to get the tea, and Cesia fidgeted in her seat.
"Cesia, how was it that you met Rath?" The lilac-haired man blinked once in her direction, but it was a cold and evaluating look.
"W-We took a cooking class together." Rath cringed at her words.
"Cooking class? Rath, you told me you took Chemistry instead of Home Economics." Kharl seemed genuinely confused.
"I…took both?" Rath was horrible liar, and not even his father was falling for it.
"Why did you—" but the lilac-haired man's question was cut short by the stately click of claws across the marble. Sinistra nudged open the door and wound a path to her master's side.
"A dog! Rath, you didn't tell me you had a dog!"
"There is a lot Rath apparently has not been telling…" Cesia ignored the man's mumblings and reached out a hand to pet the large black canine.
Excuse me? a sharp and haughty voice rung suddenly in her head.
"What did you say?" She blinked at her table companions, who stared blankly back. Shrugging, she eagerly returned to stroking the black dog's face, around the amethyst that seemed to be imbedded in its forehead. "How's that boy? Like it? Want me to pet your tummy?"
No, I don't. In fact, I would appreciate it if you would remove your filthy hands from my fur. I just bathed. And though your eyes may be feeble, that is no excuse to mistake me for a male—unless, of course, you would like the favor returned, Mr. Cesia.
"R-Rath… I think your dog is talking to me…" She reluctantly pulled her hand back. "How do you know my name?"
Sinistra's aubergine eyes glittered with what was clearly annoyance. I know a great deal about a great many things.
"Does your dog talk all the time?" She had been willing to forgive the castle. She had been willing to forget the floating, and the explosion. Hell, she could even overlook the arsenic, provided the midget (who may or may not really be immortal, she reminded herself) wasn't in the kitchen adding it to her tea. But a talking dog was really too much!
"You can hear Sinistra?" Rath almost leapt out of his seat. "I can't do that!" Kharl's eyes had taken back their evaluating look—but this time, she thought, they seemed a shade warmer.
It was at that exact moment, quite conveniently, that Garfakcy entered the room, trailed by a scrumptious looking tea set. Cesia wanted to try all the numerous biscuits, jams, and cookies, but quickly restrained herself. In this strange place, there was good chance a cookie could take your life!
Squirming with the effort, Cesia held back until Rath took a snack from the pile, ate it, and did not die. That was test enough, and she quickly loaded her plate with the sugary treats.
"So Cesia, would you say you're good friends with my son?"
"I should hope so consider—OW!" Rath had kicked her under the table. "Well, yes and no! We've had a few classes together… A few mutual acquaintances." The dark-haired boy ignored her furious glare. Kharl sipped his tea and watched through narrowed eyes, taking in the silent argument and petting Sinistra's head with a free hand.
"I see. It's very rare for Rath to bring someone here."
"I'm very persistent," Cesia offered, pointedly becoming deaf to Rath's choked complaints.
"It seems so," the lilac-haired man smiled, "I can't think of anyone else who's made it past Garfakcy." Kharl bit gingerly into a chocolate chip cookie. "He's killed them all on the front steps." Cesia giggled half from terror and half from the bubbling hope that all these strange happenings were some grand trick.
They sat for a while in silence, sharing meaningless banter—Cesia chose her words carefully, because she could almost see Rath's father weighing them on a scale. I was so determined to set this guy straight, but now I can't say anything.
"So you really had no other purpose in coming here than to see the house?" Kharl stared at her, and she could see that he'd been waiting to ask that since she'd first fed him the lie.
"I…" Rath's crimson warning glare dared her to say another word. If I tell Rath's father the truth, I might just meet that arsenic after all…
That would be worth seeing. Sinistra's face split in a fanged grin. You lot make funny noises when you die.
"Oh shut up!" Cesia shook a fist in the dog's direction; one of Kharl's lilac eyebrows raised the barest amount.
I didn't say anything, though you ought to. Lord Kharl doesn't like secrets.
He seems to be nothing but secrets! There was a ringing bark in the dark-haired girl's mind that might have been a canine laugh. The dog rose to her slender feet and padded away.
The good are always merry, save by an evil chance, and the merry love to meddle, and the merry love to dance…(1)
"What were you going to say, Cesia dear?" Kharl set his tea cup down a little harder than he should have.
"I came here to…" Rath looked ready to tear her to shreds. "I came to tell you—OW!" He had kicked her under the table again. "THAT IS IT! I'M SICK OF THIS!" She leapt from her chair, throwing down her sugar cookie in disgust. Eyes alight with fire, she spun on Rath's father. "I came here to tell you that I'm Rath's girlfriend, I'm taking him to the Prom, and there's NOTHING you can do about it!"
Kharl almost cowered in his seat, and Rath was cowering.
"No telepathic dog, immortal maid, arsenic explosion, or floating father is going to stop me!" She jabbed a teaspoon in Kharl's direction. The lilac-haired man looked vaguely threatened.
"Rath, you want to go to this dance with Cesia?"
The crimson-eyed boy squirmed under his father's gaze. "I was going to…"
"I wish you would have told me." Silently, Kharl rose from the table, cloak swishing softly. A sudden smile lit the older man's face, but Cesia thought it was a little strained. "There are a lot of things to be done! You'll have to get the proper wear, tickets, flowers... You can take the limousine if you like."
"We really do own a limo?" Rath blinked.
"I think it's somewhere in the alternate dimension at the back of the stable…" the lilac-haired man mused. Cesia was too relieved to even question that possibility.
x x x
"That wasn't that hard Rath! You just have to learn to stand up to your father!" Cesia pinched the red-eyed boy's arm playfully as he walked her back down the front steps. Zouma smiled warily as they approached the car, but took in the girl's good mood and was quickly relieved.
"Don't act so reassured Cesia," Rath leaned onto the tinted window, "you may have met my dad's expectations, but that does not mean he has accepted you." He looked back over his shoulder toward the looming castle. "In fact, I think you may have just started a war."
x x x
"Garfakcy!" the Alchemist called sharply, "procure yourself a ticket to this 'Prom'. I want them four feet apart at all times."
Notes:
(1) - Sinistra is purposely misquoting W. B. Yeats here. What she says will be very important to the rest of the story! (When I actually get to the rest of the story...)
Theme #34: Stars
"Master, I'm sick of turning water into wine!" The lilac-haired boy resists the urge to stomp his white boot or cross his arms. "You never even let me drink it!"