a broken crown: candlelight - 1850 words

Using 1 x Steampunk Calipers for 8x required word count (7AP per 225 words). (56 AP)

 

5. Family Matters. You’ve probably had your own problems with family flaking on you for whatever reason. Draw or write your character in a time where their family went back on their word… or when they went back on their word to a family member! No one’s perfect, after all.

 

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"Shit!"

 

Raymond turned to the voice farther away to his right. The winter night's darkness made it difficult to distinguish who the figure might've been - but considering the date, place, and time, he knew exactly who it was. It was why he was there to begin with, after all.

 

Caspian tried again. He tilted the candle slightly sideways, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he did. He knew that the dark green lighter he had wasn't made for this, or even ideal, but he didn't have anything else. The young shifter cursed out loud once more, when the flame reached his fingers for the umpteenth time. The wick was simply too deep in the container. Sometimes it was, sometimes it wasn't. They weren't all made exactly the same. Ugh, not everyone had the tools for this crap, for fuck's sake.

 

"Need any help with that?"

 

Startled, Caspian nearly dropped the candle, it's brass lid, and the lighter. After getting his belongings in his hands securely, he turned to Raymond. What was the deal with everyone seemingly sneaking around all the time? How did he even get that close without making any sound? "What are you doing here?" The boy hissed.

 

The red-haired man flashed a warm smile. "I should ask you the same."

 

"Oh, you know why I'm here," Caspian spit, and began to rush his way towards a lit candle to get out of the situation. His hasty actions backfired once again on his poor digits, and the bulky cigarette lighter slipped out of his hand into the snow. The teenage eternal mumbled more curses under his breath, and right before crouching down to dig the memento out of the snowbank, he shoved both of the candle's parts to Raymond without even looking at him.

 

Not being given a choice, the man hurriedly accepted the items. The surprise left him standing still like a deer in the headlights for a bit, before he could snap out of it. The glass that held the off-white wax within felt freezing, but wasn't quite as uncomfortable in his bare hands as the metal lid, with its vertical rim full of sizeable, circular holes. Raymond inspected the transparent jar. It looked like Caspian had tried to write or draw something on the glass with a black marker, but given up before even properly starting. It made a bittersweet wave of warmth and concern send out a pulse outwards in his chest.

 

Golde

Fionnbharr Arran

 

The golden, capitalized letters seemed to almost glow within their stone-made, pitch-black cell. Snow and ice had obstructed the dates into an illegible mess, and they would cling on until spring forced them to let go. While the first line was carved in big letters, the rest below it only took about a half of the space horizontally. There was space for more souls to rest beside one another - there was space for Julie.

 

And only Julie.

 

Raymond watched Caspian stand up. The boy brushed the snow off the lighter. His fingers seemed stiff from the cold. No wonder.

 

Christmas Eve, 2 AM. It was the only time Caspian was able to visit his father's grave - or even willing to. Most other times, the stakes were simply too high, considering the contrast between the reward and its punishment. This was a tradition he wanted to keep, but if Julie would've known, she wouldn't have let him. So he snuck out, year after year, no matter the consequences.

 

"I didn't know you smoke," Raymond remarked, his voice light in tone. It was clearly a joke. They both knew it was.

 

The young shifter scoffed. "I wish I did."

 

It would've hurt a lot less if the reason he had the lighter was that simple.

 

Fionnbharr had given it to him. Caspian didn't remember when, but all that mattered was the warmth the memory held, and the fact that dad was still alive in it. There wasn't really a why, either, but maybe that's what parents were like - supposed to be like. Not always sensible, in both good and bad. When they weren't busy with violence and slander. When they weren't like Julie.

 

The thing wasn't even empty - that Caspian did remember. He remembered the pain, and how he was afraid of the lighter for a while because of it. It made little sense to give such an item to a child that young. Julie had opposed the idea back then - something she would've never done now.

 

Not that it mattered. Very little mattered now. If anything at all.

 

Raymond handed the brass lid back to Caspian, but kept the candle itself to himself. "May I?"

 

He didn't wait for a reply from the youngster. The man knew he was allowed to. Traditions hid their own sub-traditions within their figurative walls, and this one was no exception. Caspian could've bought a different one, better suited for his tools. A candle that was easier to light with a regular cigarette lighter - but he wanted a specific kind. It had to burn the whole way, if something didn't go horribly wrong. To give it the best chances possible was the least he could do for... well.

 

For being born.

 

Caspian watched the red-haired man work his so-called magic. He never really understood why Raymond had those things on his wrists. Dude was like a cartoony webslinger, but with fire instead of strands of sticky webbing. It was kind of amusing, if one didn't think about how dangerous they really were. "Why do you even have those?"

 

Raymond let out a short chuckle. The boy had the habit of asking the same question every time he had the chance to - and to that, the man always answered the same: "Because I can."

 

Despite stubbornly resisting, the wick quickly caught fire when it was blasted with enough ready-made flame to match its rotten attitude. Caspian accepted the grave candle's lower piece when it was handed to him. He carefully set the lid on it to avoid burning himself any more. After stomping down the snow to make room for the flickering flame, he set it down in front of the headstone, right in the middle of the shoe-sized indent. The young shifter took a few steps back, and Raymond followed his example.

 

Caspian felt guilty of the way he felt. He felt betrayed. Dad had promised to always be there for him - and then he had just fucking died.

 

It was an accident. Of course it was. No one died like that on purpose. Finn didn't even have a reason to go anywhere near such a thing on purpose. The size of his heart had no boundaries. He cared when no one else did.

 

Caspian knew it was dumb to feel the way he did. It didn't make any sense. It was childish - but what was he if not a naive brat?

 

A failure. A mistake. Waste of space. Slow. Clumsy. A stupid whore. Nothing.

 

Maybe he just simply was everything and anything Julie called him. Maybe she was right. Had always been. Everything was his fault. All of it.

 

"Caspian."

 

The boy lifted his gaze from the headstone in an instant. He immediately recognized the voice that called him. Its tone and weight. It made chills as heavy as lead run down his spine like a stampede of wildebeests.

 

Julie stood among the gravestones, eerily like a faulty scarecrow. She raised her chin as soon as her son's bright, guilt-ridden eyes met hers. Her nose bridge crinkled momentarily. Every fold the reaction created swam in the murk of scorn. "I've been looking for you."

 

Caspian shoved the lighter into the first pocket of his jacket he happened to find. He turned to Raymond to pass him, but was faced by the man's flaming gaze. It made Caspian halt like into a solid wall of bricks.

 

"You don't have to," Raymond stated, his voice soft, but tone strict like a metal chain. He had said it a million times, and would say it a million more. He wasn't afraid of this husk of a woman. The adolescent shifter stared straight into the man's eyes, as if to make a point. Before he replied, the stiff silence felt like an eternity.

 

"You're not the log in the fireplace, Ray."

 

Caspian stepped to the side, and walked past the other Athos. He could feel Raymond's eyes following him, as he made his way to the sharp-edged figure.

 

Like life itself, she would always find a way. No matter who or what was between her and him, no punishment got lost in its way to its mark. Like a bloodhound. Like a modified arrow. No place would ever be secluded enough. There was nowhere to hide.

 

The way Julie welcomed her son when he approached made Raymond's eyes narrow. She was gentle. Seemed understanding. A smile curled the corners of her mouth upwards, although it was quite clearly fake.

 

The man scoffed loudly, right as the two turned to leave. "What's the matter, Julie," he seethed, like a snake spitting its venom at the hag's face, "can't hit him when someone's watching?"

 

The woman froze. Her nigh-tender touch on Caspian's upper arm shifted to a firm grip - almost violently so. The boy whimpered. It had no effect on her. Slowly, Julie turned back to Raymond. All traces of the facade of motherly love bled off of her being in an instant. It was replaced with bitter grudge, and derision. She seemed to almost hiss for a second before she opened her mouth:

 

"I don't think dictators like you have any say in this, Reiher."

 

Julie could see the rage boiling inside the man's throat. A scornful half of a smile crossed her lips in a hurried pace, before she turned again, and started dragging Caspian along.

 

From his throat, that ire rushed to the rest of his body. Veins underneath the man's skin pulsated in grey, bleeding the colors of his True hide to the pigmentation of his shifted skin. The whole disguise crackled like a bonfire, eager and willing to burst open. To tear apart and flay.

 

Joe had to run his last steps to get in the way of his lover's wrath. He wasn't going to watch Raymond tear anyone to shreds, no matter what kind of a bitch that might've been. He pressed his forearms fast against the roiling Athos' chest. It wasn't even surprising that Raymond hadn't heard him arriving. Julie had deliberately gone too far - and she knew there would be someone that wouldn't let harm come her way.

 

"She's not worth it," Joe hissed at the red-haired man, his attempt of keeping an assuring tone failing him, "whatever it is she says."

 

Raymond let out an animalistic growl before pulling away. He watched the last traces of the mother and son's silhouettes disappearing into the darkness. He turned around, and Joe followed his retreat like a worried puppy.

 

"She's the last thing I'm worried about," Raymond muttered under his breath. The words got lost into the raised collar of his jacket.