Extremely short character drabbles just so I could write about a lot of instances with little commitment haha. Most are other random, unimportant canon moments or re-visitations to rp scenes.

luca

Luca only tilted the bottom of his mask up when he kissed the girl goodnight, pulling away and tugging his coat off a hook. He had traded in his usual attire for something more casual and mundane and it was strange to be out of his normal element. The girl swished around her coffee, a mug perched in both of her hands as she took a step back. Perhaps she didn't know what his face looked like, as he had only taken his mask off when the lights were off. Possibly, he preferred that.

"I'll write you?" She suggested on instinct and Luca held up a hand quickly to stop her.

"I'll be busy," he said, buttoning up the front of his coat. "Unless it's for business."

The girl shrugged a little, having similar sentiments. "Understandable."

ethos

Lowering the piccolo, Ethos looked down at it and studied his fingers to try and ensure they were correct. He was a perfectionist, never liking to seem unprepared or unpracticed. However, music was more of an emotion than a structure, he slowly started to realize, and he did not think he was very in touch with his feelings.

"Like this," the girl said sweetly, correcting him with a steady nudge to fix his placement. "That note fits best for the ending. Once you learn enough, I'm sure you will be able to create your own songs."

"I'm afraid I may be a slow learner," he murmured as he lifted it back to his lips to test the sound, finding it pleasing to his ears. A sad note, maybe, if he could name it. "But if there is anything I have, it is time."

'''''

His own hair had always been straight and sleek, cooperative and only a little fluffy when it dried after it was wet, nothing like Kellan's red curls, which stood out against the muted background. They reminded him so much like the Queen's, it was strange. To study him so close as he pinned his hair back, it was strange. Perhaps it was fitting, though. They were unruly and not Seelie-like at all and Ethos was quick to cover them, taming them as if would draw attention away from the way they branded him an obvious outsider.

He didn't know why he tried so hard to make him look like a Seelie. People still stared. Maybe it made him feel more normal, more collected, like he was taking a casual walk with a Seelie friend rather than overseeing a member from a rival faction. He didn't know why that thought bugged him so much, keeping that little reality pinned together as if he could keep everything in place.

'''''

There was something terrifyingly comforting about holding the demon tooth in his hand, pressing it against his palm. Shortly after arriving back at the Seelie, he scorned himself for accepting it. It was just a tooth, a memento from a past life that wasn't his to share. It was a little thing unfit for the Seelie and he could not understand exactly why exactly Kellan had lent it to him. It seemed more fitting as a gift to a family member rather than to a simple faerie as a token of appreciation. In the midst of such a thought, he decided that perhaps Kellan had no one more qualified to give such a thing to. No one in particular he loved or cared for, and he felt a little guilty for thinking so.

Ethos wondered if Kellan had ever loved or been loved. If his family had loved him despite his mixed blood and otherworldly characteristics. If he had any siblings that fought for him rather than simply beside him in battle. If he had-...Ethos caught himself quickly, thinking it must be strange and unfit to ponder so deeply over Kellan's background. Instead, he tucked the tooth back under the neckline of his shirt, straightening up. For whatever reason he was lent such a thing, he would keep it safe.

connor

He didn't mean to get so frustrated at the fact that Rose hardly had any interest in training, but he could not help but scorn her unwillingness to help herself. It seemed unfair that someone that had never made an effort to protect their life was spared while his brother, who had trained his entire life, was not. As if being angry at her could bring him back. Sometimes he didn't like what he had become.

Once he had woken abruptly from a dream, gasping from a ringing headache and his hands instantly scrabbled across the sheets to ensure that they weren't covered in blood. That there was no hole in his head and nothing sprayed against the wall for someone else to find and he was disgusted, mortified even when his thoughts did clear. He swore in Russian, a forgotten book falling from his bed as he rolled over and pressed his face into his hands. All he wished for was to get over himself, a little disturbed at how fragile he found he was. A little more like Rose than he thought.

aspen

Nyx threw a towel at him, finally getting a reaction out of the boy when Aspen flinched away from it. "Go take a shower," he said, but Aspen didn't move. "I said go take a fucking shower," Nyx snapped, hauling Aspen up by the arm and shoving the towel at him. Aspen stood there with the robe slipping off and staring past him, face turned half away, clutching at the towel mechanically. Nyx pushed him at the little closet bathroom and Aspen finally moved, stiff kneed with none of his usual blushing childish modesty.

The shower didn't turn on right away. Nyx stood there, listening, and almost went in to make sure Aspen got into the shower, but the water was on and Nyx picked up the little knife from the floor. It was repulsive to know that someone had been close to him, unauthourized and not needing to pay, only needing to stand and reel Aspen in and Nyx stripped off his coat. He changed into a fresh button up and left to go kill someone.

'''''

His hair was still a little damp when he had been stirred from his restlessness, having been pressed into the stuffy hotel pillows. Caspian had chosen to stay on the floor and Aspen hadn't extended an invitation for the bed. It was a little strange, laying there alone, especially when most of his hotel visits that involved bringing a person along with him did not end with them staying separate. Usually, he would have suffered through a mighty wave of rejection, but this was Caspian. He had a right to be defensive over his space.

It had been the first time he had seen the scars, thinking they were jagged and too obvious to ever be ignored by a passing gaze. Somehow, 'disgusting' and 'weak' were not words he associated with such a thing, despite Caspian's repulsion towards the etched lines and painful reminders that his pride had been cut away. They were certainly not pretty, but being allowed to see them made him almost feel better. A little glad that Caspian had entrusted him with something that was now theirs to share. Relieved? Maybe that was the word. It was a little like being safe.