[open] I was tame, I was gentle, til the circus life made me mean

[ordinar]

Who: Wilhelm & pals
When: June onward
Where: Thorne, Nocwich
What: Catchall for hot boy summer
Warnings: Will update as needed



Closed and open starters to follow. :)

Comments

around thorne: castle, nott, & borrel

[ordinar]

In the wake of the attack on the castle, life stumbles on. Wilhelm tries to beat back the quiet anxiety that comes creeping across his thoughts, imaginings of impending war hanging around like smoke, by leaning into his familiar routines.

Out on the castle grounds, he keeps his early morning training session — 7:00 A.M. sharp, as prescribed by Kyle. Well, sharp-ish. While his teacher is detained in the dungeons, he practices by himself the forms of punches, kicks, defensive stances. He goes up against some of the younger, greener guards in hand-to-hand spars, only about half of which end with him flattened to the grass. If you're also looking for a sparring partner, you could try your luck with him.

Around the gardens, Wilhelm can be found practicing his magic. It used to be that he'd hide out here to work on his magic because he didn't want an audience for his struggles; now, he just prefers the open air and peaceful scenery to the castle classrooms. He tests his control over his fire by juggling flames while walking under a trellis draped with blooming vines — without setting the whole thing ablaze. He bends opaque shadows around trees, trying to see how much he can swallow up.

And he tries out something new, something that happened the night explosions shattered the castle windows: if he concentrates, a shell of crystals grows over his skin and arcs around him. You might find him half-swallowed up by crystals, throwing himself at a tree or wall to test his shell's durability.

In the castle town and Nott alike, he zips from business to business and house to house, delivering letters and small parcels on bicycle. The streets are bustling, and you may narrowly avoid a collision as he clatters along. Sorry about that. Eventually, he does need to refuel. Procuring snacks from a favorite bakery or vendor's cart, he finds a low wall to sit on and take a breather. In Borrel, he bikes around the market district and tries to drum up new business for his courier gig, now that he can come here whenever he wants. But with the beach right there, he could easily be persuaded to play instead of work...

sparring 🤼

[sophos]

[ annabeth has idly been to the castle's training grounds a couple of times now, though mostly because she's looking for someone she's likely to find there. personally she doesn't think she needs any sort of lesson, but the more she thinks about it the more she should probably stay in practice, and at the very least get a sense of how the locals fight. ]

[ so today, she meanders down closer to eight. she's tired, but she hadn't been able to fall back asleep, so she snagged some pastry for breakfast and found her way outside to get some air. ]

[ she's not surprised to find wilhelm there, but this time she watches him practice for a little first, watching to see how he moves and fights and what he might have learned. she remembers him mentioning that he'd trained with kyle, whom she knows is now currently in jail, and the way he spars with some of the younger guard. she could probably stand to flex her muscles instead and get out some pent up energy instead of letting it fester, so she calls out to him, again without much by the way of greeting. ]

Okay. Do you want a real challenge?

[ordinar]

[With less than two years of training under his belt, he's still rough around the edges. He's a little stiff in some of his attacks, and his form falters when he panics in the heat of a match. But it's clear even from the sidelines that he's putting all of himself into it.

That's not something he used to do very often in his old life. He'd played the piano because his parents wanted him to, and rowed because his brother had done it before him. But this — this he chose for himself. Wilhelm feels electric with the sense that he's moving toward something, that he's getting stronger.

He has just managed to scrape a win when Annabeth catches his attention. Mid-stretch, he turns a grin on her.]

Sure. [His arms swing back to his sides and he shakes them out.] Now that I'm warmed up, I'm ready to get my ass handed to me by a monster slayer.

[sophos]

[ she pulls her hair out of its ponytail and reties it into a bun to get more of the curls back up and out of the way, given it was partially falling out from sleep. then she stretches her arm across her chest, repeating the motion with the other arm. ]

At least you know what you're getting into.

[ she bends her knee and grabs her heel to stretch her leg, repeating it with the other too. she hasn't had a proper warm up like wilhelm, but she's been doing this longer, so maybe it'll even out. ]

I haven't only come up against monsters, so bring your best. [ she rolls her neck, drops into a quick squat, then pops back up all in a few fluid motions, before finally stepping in closer. she sweeps her foot across the ground, like she's testing the solidity of it. ]

[ it belatedly occurs to her that she hasn't told him who her mother is, so perhaps it's not quite fair, but sometimes... annabeth doesn't play fair. ]

[ordinar]

[Although he's already warmed up, Wilhelm runs through a few quick stretches to keep his muscles ready, and to work out some of the hits he's taken in previous spars. When Annabeth appears ready, he suggests:]

First one to land three hits wins the round. Best two out of three?

[He's not optimistic about his odds of winning the whole thing, but if he can land a few hits, maybe even scrounge up a round, he'll consider it a victory of sorts.

He's curious to see how she fights. As he spars with the guards, he has started to notice subtle differences in their technique, deviations from how Kyle has taught him. He has started to learn, little by little, how to adjust what he's doing to block their attacks and find holes in their defenses.]

[sophos]

Works for me.

[ annabeth also does not expect to lose, but she goes into most sparring bouts with that attitude, even when it might be undeserving. there aren't that many people who can keep up with her at camp anymore, but thorne is not camp. she's a little antsy to see where she might slot in. ]

[ she shifts, planting her feet firmly with a slight bend at the knee and lets her arms hang loosely but ready at her sides. she studies him and his own posture first - she did get a general sense of his speed already from her prior observations, but it's different going head to head. ]

[ and then she just sweeps in, fast, swinging her right arm towards his shoulder. ]

[ordinar]

[There was a time, not that long ago, that he would only train one-on-one with Kyle. They met on an obscure strip of the castle grounds tucked away between trees, because he was self-conscious of his stumbling efforts as he learned. He was self-conscious of how poorly he fit into this world, where everyone around him seemed to excel in one thing or another while he struggled with just about everything.

That he thinks he has a shot of landing a hit says something about his burgeoning confidence. As Annabeth positions herself, so does Wilhelm. He waits for her to make the first move, leaning toward the defensive side of fighting. That was why Kyle offered to teach him in the first place, to prepare him to defend himself.

He blocks her fist, just barely, catching her wrist on his forearm and shoving it aside in a wild maneuver. Before she can close herself off again, he tries to throw a punch at her exposed side.]

[sophos]

[ her arrival at camp half-blood was marred by a whole lot of trauma, but annabeth threw herself into the training and into the demigod world as soon as she got the chance. athena's cabin was the perfect learning environment for her, as it would be for anyone. ]

[ annabeth recognizes the importance of defense. her mother's aegis looms as a reminder every time she thinks of athena, or the parthenos itself too. but she's never afraid to make the first strike, especially when it's her own choice. ]

[ her eyes briefly dart to his incoming punch, but she lifts her other arm and deflects it smoothly. barely a second later, she swings her first arm again, this time coming at a slightly downward angle from where he'd shoved it to strike at his waist. ]

[ordinar]

[He doesn't see the second strike coming until it's too late. He's too focused on what he's doing, not what his opponent is doing. When Annabeth's fist comes hammering down, all he can do is tense up against the impact.

Shit. Annabeth one, Wilhelm zero.

While he recovers, he dances backward with light footsteps to get out of her range. He circles around her, looking for an opening to wedge himself into. Then — a split-second breath, and he hooks a punch at her shoulder.]

gardens

[theladyofwinterfell]

Sansa is convinced she is the only person in all of Thorne who has not chosen fire magic. She sees someone practicing fire and it is only when she draws closer that she sees it is Wilhelm, who she met on her first arrival and has not been able to follow up with since. He had been kind to her and she remembers kindnesses, marks them in the invisible ledger she keeps in her head of who is trustworthy and who is not; Wilhelm had never seemed threatening to her.

His magic is far more impressive than her own and she watches for a moment before saying anything.

"I believe I am the only person who likes ice better than fire. Even my own brother prefers fire to ice in spite of being from the same North I'm from."

[ordinar]

Catching the flame in his hand again, he fixes his gaze on Sansa, who has appeared at the mouth of the trellis he practices under. Purple flowers hang thickly from the wooden latticework around them — and not one, he'd like to point out, has been singed. He gives her a little grin over the still crackling ball of fire.

"If it makes you feel better, the fire picked me. I didn't really have a choice."

It used to be just one more thing he never asked for but had thrust upon him anyway. It used to terrify him, this power that burned in his bones, that he wished he could carve out of himself. Then, finally, he'd chosen to not let his fear control him anymore.

[theladyofwinterfell]

"Then there is something in your nature that leans toward it. I wanted ice. No one wants ice and the chill is something that kills you slower than fire burns. I have never been afraid of fire. It is ice that kills my people in winter and it is ice that I wanted to control. If you control your fear, it can no longer hurt you."

Wilhelm has a little ball of fire in his palm and she draws up a ball of ice, a circular globe of frost that looks innocuous until she flips her hand over and sends it flying in a storm of needles.

"The words of my house are Winter is Coming for a reason, I suppose. How have you been?"

[ordinar]

Then there is something in your nature that leans toward it. He'd have to turn those words over more when he got the chance. For some reason, Lucifer pops into his mind with a knowing look, all the times the archangel encouraged him to channel his anger into strength. Fire destroys, but some things need to burn down before anything new can take root.

Understanding flashes in his eyes when she speaks of fear. They are the same, in some measure. And when she summons ice to her hand and showers the garden with frozen shards, he snuffs out his fire for a little round of applause. He recalls that as a newbie she'd had a lot of questions, eager to make sense of the strange world she'd been thrown into. It seems like she's doing alright.

"Busy. But busy is good."

If his body keeps moving, it's harder for his mind to sink into brackish thoughts.

"Winter is coming," he repeats, affecting a dramatic tone. "It sounds threatening. I bet your family would be impressed by your ice magic."

[theladyofwinterfell]

Sansa laughs in spite of herself and shakes her head. She's always known her house words are a warning and not a boast but the way Wilhelm says it is very dramatic. Not quite as serious as Jon would be, however, and she says as much.

"You should hear my brother say it. He's far more serious than I am if you could possibly imagine. Most noble houses have words that are a boast, something like Ours is the Fury or Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. Not House Stark. Winter is deadly. My family...my family would be glad I could wield it as a weapon to defend myself."

Sansa misses her family intensely in this moment, misses those that are lost forever and those she's left behind in Westeros. Most of all, she misses Arya. Arya would be proud that she'd finally found a way to use a weapon."

[ordinar]

Wilhelm nods thoughtfully. He likes that — taking something that's meant to destroy you and twisting it into something that protects you. He had done much the same with his fire.

"My family's is our history, our future." As chosen by his mother, in the long tradition of the Swedish monarchy, stretching back centuries. This is as close as he'll come to admitting his own noble status. It's not that he's hiding it, it's just that it doesn't seem important here. It belongs to his old life.

"But my school's was you are responsible for the school's legacy. Definitely a threat."

He can chuckle about it now, as if he'd never had a panic attack reading those words engraved in bronze and wondering what it meant that he wanted to hold hands with a boy. Reaching up to pick a flower from one of the trailing vines, he tilts a look at Sansa.

"You have a brother?"

[theladyofwinterfell]

"Our history, our future. Those are fine words for a house, I think. It reminds you of your past and where you've come from but where you should be going. Your school sounds incredibly threatening. Imagine being responsible for an entire school of students. I don't even think the novices at the Citadel are given that much responsibility."

When he asks about her brother, Sansa nods.

"His name is Jon Snow. We do not favor. He has dark hair and dark eyes because he favors the Starks and I favor the Tullys. He has been here far longer than I have."

[ordinar]

Those fine words had always felt like a cage to Wilhelm. His family's history dictated his future; his life had to follow a script set by someone else. He says nothing about that, though, as he twirls the plucked flower between his fingers. Instead, he thinks about when he dreamed he was a god of evolution, and understood deep in his bones that everything new grows from what was before.

"Oh, yeah. I know Jon. He was one of the first people I met here. I didn't know you were his sister."

Though he could tell that they were close. And now that she mentions it, he seems to recall her name popping up in Jon's recollections of childhood. With so much happening, he'd half forgotten.

Borrel

[a_better_man]

If the powers that be are going to allow them to roam, within reason, Mat is going to take advantage of it. It's nothing against the castle, really. He does like living there, and not having to worry about things like paying for food and a bed. And he likes sharing a room with Jon, they both have their privacy but it's a shared sort. He's not alone in that room.

But the walls still get to him. If he hadn't been locked along in a single room for half a year, it wouldn't be any problem at all. But these days he can only stay inside so long, is only comfortable in an enclosed space for a time. He needs open air and the bustle of people.

Things which he'd struggled with when first coming here, still just a village boy with mud on his boots. Now the throng of the city is comfortable and calls to him.

So he's exploring Borrel, with an instrument slung over his back and a hat cocked jauntily over his wild tangle of hair. He's always prepared to busk, and Borrel offers countless new opportunities.

He'd heard the wheeled machine clattering about the streets. He knows what it is, and where they come from, but he cannot say he is their biggest fan. What's wrong with horses? Nature designed them to carry people. But other folks have other preferences, and he'll get used to the two wheeled machines.

When he sees Wilhelm sat with his teatime, the machine propped beside him, he gives a wave and a grin.

"Haven't broken a limb tumbling off that thing yet, have ya?"

[ordinar]

Wilhelm breaks into a grin when he spots Mat. Perched on a stone wall that overlooks the beach, he's got balanced on his lap a newspaper full of fritters made from fish, which he's munching on. He has on a short-sleeved tunic that's embroidered with a pattern of leaves and flowers at its edges. Peeking out on his right bicep is his new tattoo, two frogs climbing up a fern. He's been keen to show it off since he got it at the start of the month.

"No, not yet," he chuckles, popping another fritter into his mouth.

Before today, he'd never taken a bike to Borrel — so before today, the people of Borrel had never seen such a thing. He's gotten a wave of incredulous looks as he wheels around town. Well, they'd better get used to it. Wilhelm nods at the instrument strapped to Mat's back.

"Making good money today?"

[a_better_man]

"Not bad!"

He jingles his coin pouch as he hops up to join Wilhelm.

"Plenty of folks haven't heard most of my songs yet, so that always earns me some coins. Folks love hearing new things."

He unslings his instrument and leans it against the wall, stretching as he settles himself. It's nice to get off of his feet.

"You here on work or leisure?"

The machine indicates work, but one never knows.

[ordinar]

He nods in approval at the obvious heft of Mat's coin purse — nice.

With the guy perched next to him, it's a little too easy to remember how, in that shared vision where they were all gods, they'd gotten to know each other much better in ways that don't involve much talking. A different sort of conversation, with hands and skin as much as mouths. He still doesn't know how to feel about it, other than unbearably awkward. But Wilhelm very bravely acts casual by continuing to empty his newspaper of fritters.

"A little bit of both," he answers. "I'm going around trying to get new clients for deliveries. There's some interest."

Especially for carrying letters and parcels between Borrel and the castle city.

[a_better_man]

"If you've gotten some interest, I say you've completed the work portion of your visit. Now you ought to indulge in the leisure bit!"

Mat grins and winks. He feels no sense of awkwardness whatsoever. He sleeps with his friends, and there's nothing to feel funny over. Nothing wrong with some friendly frolicking in the sheets.

They'd certainly not done anything regrettable.

"I'm about to do that very thing. My fingers are aching and it has been hot as a volcano's arsehole and the sea is right there."

It's practically calling.

[ordinar]

Volcano's arsehole gets a laugh out of him. Likewise, his legs are sore from pedaling all over town, and he's got sweat dripping into every crevice of his body.

"I'm definitely ready to call it a day. Want to hit the beach?"

Finishing the last bite of fritter, he licks his fingers and crumples the newspaper up. There's a waste barrel nearby, and he tosses the wad of paper at it...only for it to bounce off the rim. Blowing a strand of hair off his forehead, Wilhelm slides down from the wall to pick it up and dunk it in.

[a_better_man]

"How did you possibly guess I might like to go to the beach?"

Mat's grin only broadens. He hops off the wall and grabs his instrument, slinging it back over his shoulder and very much not chuckling at Wilhelm missing his shot.

"Never got to, before I came here. No ocean anywhere near where I lived, just the rivers and ponds. Which were nice, but nothing like the sea."

Which technically he has seen back home, now, but he was hardly spending any leisure time on the shore. This afternoon is going to be all leisure time on the shore.

"If there's one of those stands with drinks, I'll buy you one. It's a good afternoon for a drink."

[ordinar]

"Sure, man, whatever you want," he chuckles. He won't say no to a drink on someone else's coin. Taking the bike by the handlebars, he starts walking it down the path that leads to the beach.

"Let's go check it out."

The walk is short, the brick path soon giving way to sand as tufts of tall grass cluster close around them. Heat rises up in thick waves from the sand, and sloshing through it with boots and bike wheels is like a circle of hell, he's pretty sure. But he's reluctant to leave the bike somewhere out of sight. The people of Borrel might not know what it is, but that doesn't mean that someone with sticky fingers won't see any value in it.

Closer to the waves, Wilhelm decides that this is going to be their spot. He carefully lays the bike down in the sand, sets his bag down, and sets to prying his boots off.