sinbound. [Akira & Earinor] [ENG]

Once he got the old woman off of his case, he was free to do whatever he wanted - or so he thought. With her disappearance, the shadow of Caelan loomed over him even stronger and reminded him of who he truly and really was - no one that felt safe here, or among people. "I kind of have to, you know", the young noble said, as he watched the crowd grow ever busier and started feeling nauseous, just thinking about the kind of noise they'd all make. Something like this reminded him of the times when he still was a toddler and would cling to his mothers expensive dress, the moment he got scared. However, the duchess was not present right now and her eldest son had grown past the stage of infancy a long while ago, which also meant that he was not only saddled with responsibility but also forced to deal with his problems himself. "I'm still trying my best, really." Ronan could barely blame himself for being unfamiliar with all of these things - just like Saoirse, he wasn'at the social type, with the difference being that his mother was playing hard to get most of the time, whereas he had his fair share of problems. "There's plenty of paintings of my youthful visage in Alster, if you ever want to see them. However, I can guarantee you that I didn't look like a doll or a little sea monster." After all, he used to be a regular kid.

Ronans gaze fixated on the glass of wine, just for one second, as he took his mind off of the crowd and assessed what Caelan just told him. For one, he wasn't a fan of beverages like wine and two, he was very much aware that he usually barely could stomach things like that. Once he got the chance to, he had spend some nights with some of his fathers knights and other servants, drinking and talking, but also on formal events - every single time, it didn't taste good, but he drank it, glass after glass, only to realize that - in the end - wine was nothing in comparison. "You want to get me drunk or what?" Not that he had to let Caelan know that, though. Whereas his mother would probably be able to stomach so much more than Darragh or even him, he wasn't lagging far behind - and as he took a sip, he kept that in mind. "Well, his taste isn't bad, I'll give him that", the young noble said, letting it be for now and deciding that if he wanted to drink all of this, he'd do it later, once he was alone, reading his book and the festivities were an afterthought - he even had the book with him. "Sitting with who? All four of you?" It was an understatement to say that he was baffled, yet, he couldn't complain. "Would you even leave me the choice to decline?" Ronan took a step forward. "Probably not, so do your worst - and I won't bet anything, ever." Except his honor, dignity and pride for the tournament.

"You've never heard me talk when I'm on my own and haven't had time to prepare for conversation. I'm not as open and as naive as you are, Caelan", Ronan sighed. Being the son of a duchess gave him some privileges and even more rules he had to abide, which was fine for the most part, until it got to him having to do one thing or another - and that was about it. "And here I am, having to say that I did whatever was wanted from me - I never dared to act out of line, so there's way more of me than there should be", he sighed. Sitting still tired him out but soon enough he found joy in other things than running around and trying to beat all of these things, instead he complied and never did what he shouldn't, until very recently, when he started to rebel against Darragh because he couldn't stand it any longer. There was pain that came alongside this decision, but now he was here, free from his shackles for a moment, but still bound to someone like Caelan, even if just for a short period of time. His book was calling him and Ronans only answer was 'soon enough' - he was wrong and he knew, the moment he heard his new friend open his mouth and talk - was there anything else Caelan was good at, except sweettalking?

"So slighty tipsy, I assume - fine then", Ronan responded, as he took another sip and swallowed - wine wasn't going to kill him, not today and not anytime soon. Whereas Lavern barely offered anything else except that, whatever one would find in Alster, it'd burn at the back of ones throat and usually taste not only bitter but also absolutely vile and yet, even he drank it because he somehow liked it. "What do I get if it's not as fun as you claim it is?" Why did he want something to begin with? "I'm kidding, but good that you promise - if I had you swear on your ancestors grave, you'd probably be the one that joked around", and yet there was no trace of laughter or even a sly smile on his lips - Ronan had stopped and even his face looked as if it was frozen stiff, packaged in a regular, neutral expression. "Fine, I'll leave if I want to ... hey! Why are you touching me again?", he asked, confused as to why he was the one getting dragged along, but that was - also - sort of fine. Caelan seemed to have fun and that was what mattered, no? "Oh, I do - I'm just saying, I won't bet on anything silly like a cardgame." Was it just imagination or did the strangers shirt fit Caelan quite well? Oh, what a lucky guy. "I'm just horrible with people, that's all."

Was he afraid of words hurting him like the edge of a butterknife could or was it that he simply didn't fancy the companionship that was offered to him by his fellow to-be duke? "Prepare to have me stammer and do barely anything else", he sighed, knowing that this was the mortifying ordeal of being alive and bound to his duties, but also those he called his friends. "Well, no, but I had time to approach you and annoy the hell out of you one on one yesterday night, not in a public space with god knows how many nobles that couldn't care less about anything except fake relationships", Ronan said, as the scowl returned to his face and the bad mood was starting to settle back in. What was this anyway? His natural defense against change or things he seemingly didn't want? Seemed like it. "Sometimes, not always", was the answer he gave Caelan. Yes, he was sure that the blonde and his stupid, well-trained body was more than capable of something else than naivety, but he didn't always show it, instead, he put blind trust in a grumpy lightweight like him that would be gone when the next wind came. "I doubt anyone would want me as their son, trust me on that one. I know nobody does." Darragh was probably regarding him as a failure and whereas Saoirse didn't, she usually wasn't around - not during the warmer months - and therefore wasn't able to do much against whatever her husband did, which meant that Ronan just stopped telling her and instead squirmed in his fathers grasp until he'd, eventually, be unable to get back up ever again someday.

"Oh, I will - thank you for the wine", Ronan said, eyes glued back onto Caelan - and his only justification was, that the noble was standing right in front of him and he didn't know where else to look. "It was a joke. I really don't want anything ... and I should make it apparent that my jokes are jokes." One thing that Caelan of Fhaergus was, in fact, good at, was looking nice while running his mouth about things he barely understood or misunderstood, though, even the misunderstanding was Ronans fault to some degree. "Urgh, fine. You got me there. Do your worst then." How embarrassing it was to be caught slipping up like that, about something that very much was his own fault, too. Were his cheeks flaring up again? Who knew, he had no free hand to check and he didn't want to bother with a himself right now - instead he averted his gaze and let himself be pulled around by Caelan. Once he had sat down however, the air was somewhat tense and he felt like he should have just booked it out of here while he could. Who were these friends anyway and wasn't one of them missing? "H-Hi", the young lord responded to one of them, touching the nape of his neck with his now free hand, before being elbowed in the rips by Caelan. "B-Behead them? Are y-you out of your mind!?" Caelan had a special talent and Ronan wanted to call it "specifically piss him, and only him, off" - and he would. "God, no. I-I'm not as uptight as I l-look."

Ronan let go off the topic - if Caelan claimed that it would be fine, it probably was going to be - but he knew better. Not, that he had ever interacted with the fellow nobles that Caelan was friends with, but he knew them - most of them only feigned interest in someone like him, coaxed him out of his shell and got what they wanted from a young, naive person like him and then let go of him, stopped regarding the weird kid that he was as a friend and moved on to the next one. Most of the friends he had when he was little were gone by now, either had passed on - had disappeared themselves - or were just not interested in him, because they had gotten what they wanted. Meanwhile, his beloved crown prince was the only that somehow, some way, had not let go of him - was he pitying him, or was it just because the fellow noble had no friends, either? They both looked sickly, spend most of their times apart from the crowds when they met and whereas Darragh would insist that Ronan stayed, the prince was free to prance off wherever he wanted to and eventually would find him, sitting on a bench in the freezing cold and enjoying a book, just to escape the trouble of being around so many people. "We'll see if Allard of Fhaergus will fancy me." And yet, there was no escape to be found, no prince to be seen - he wasn't required to be here, after all. "Well, whatever you say, puppy." This was going to be awkward and the silence was something that not only would dominate this conversation, the tense air wasn't going to make it any better - Ronan wasn't as shy as he thought, that's at least what Caelan claimed, but he knew better. Even if it was just five of them, he could still hear too much, could hear the crowd ramble on and it frustrated him that he was so sensitive when it came to all this noice.

Ronan gulped, as his eyes fell onto his glass of wine and he took another sip, silently waiting for something more to happen, for someone to tell him he was doing just fine or that everything would be alright sooner or later, but everything he got to hear was Caelan - of course it was him. "Of course", he acknowledged and put his hand back onto his leg, away from his neck, in hopes of eventually figuring out why the hell nothing calmed him down. "Y-yes. He k-kind of ... coaxed m-me into signing up", why was he faltering, not believing in his own or Caelans words and only ever listen to what he was asked, to then give an answer? These nobles were beneath him, at least in rank, and probably not stupid enough to seek out his father and tell them he misbehaved in front of them, so why was he all that tense? Was he still fearing words that would cut him as if they were knives? Or was it something else entirely? Ronan averted his gaze, focused on his wine and listened to the conversation, still hoping for someone to pull him out of here and to hear nothing more of his father - it made him sick to his stomach, but he knew all the stories anyway. Enough of them to say that Darragh was a brainless fanatic, but he couldn't spout all of this in front of strangers, even Caelan knew enough. The sudden touch of unfamiliar hands wasn't enough to send him over the edge, but his eyes widened for a second and he thought his heart would break through his very ribs - thankfully, they didn't. Thankfully, the unfamiliar face bantered with Caelan, not him - was he going to sit here and try to enjoy the moment, or would he be the one that got swept up in this conversation either way? Apparently, it was the latter. Instead, he averted his gaze toward Ethan, who also spoke up - he still felt miserable and lonely here, but at least he got Caelan of his case. "F-From what he t-told me, yes. I d-doubt he'd lie", was all that escaped his miserably dry throat, which was why he took yet another sip of his wine and asked himself if this would even help - this was not going to get him drunk anytime soon. "He, uh, t-told me a m-myriad of other stories t-too, b-but I doubt a-anyone wants to h-hear those."

Meanwhile, Darragh wouldn't mind someone like Caelan as his son - even if he was rash and loud, at least he knew how to pick an win fights, wasn't shy and instead straightforward, as he tried to charm his way through a conversation. Maybe that was exactly why he didn't understand as to why his father hated the fellow young noble so much - was it because there was bad blood between him and Allard, or maybe just because Darragh had the luxury of picking his enemies rather than his allies? Whatever the reason, Ronan refused to get swept up in something like this and frankly, this was the best way to avoid getting dragged in some weird 'my son is better than yours' debates - Darragh would have them, once Declan would be older, but for now he just prided himself with the fact that his good for nothing son actually befriended the crown prince and thus secured himself a nice spot in the monarchy, should Alster ever fall - which, again, was unlikely. If he'd die defending his homeland, he'd die as a coward and a clown that had nothing better to do than throw away his life, but in reality, he already had nothing to do and he was somewhat trying to kill himself - he was already a fool for believing he could escape this world.

"Y-you wouldn't h-have left m-me alone otherwise!", Ronan said, bewildered by the fact that Caelan was now trying to pass him off as easy and starving for attention, even if that wasn't his intention and couldn't be read out of his words, the black haired noble already was overthinking way too many things. Orlando was right, Caelan could be a pain in the ass, but there was no way he was going to admit it before these people that merely were strangers, nothing more, and for now that was all he needed - even if Caelan called himself his friend and he did so as well, this would be about it. Anxiety spiked within him, as Orlando raised his voice again and was actually the one inquiring about Darragh, but before Ronan could formally decline him, Caelan seemed to purposefully avert the topic to something else and distract Orlando from him, just long enough to engage in a conversation with Cameron about god knows what - Ronan didn't care. "I do", he simply responded, before he drank the last droplets of wine out of his glass and then turned his attention towards Caelan, Ethan and a deck of cards. "I-I don't t-think so", wasn't Caelan the one that had said not to bet anything when playing cards with Ethan? Wasn't it just important to have fun? "I-If you're o-okay with explaining i-it, I'd l-love to give it a t-try!", he simply reponded, then turned his attention toward Caelan. "W-Well, I wouldn't c-call you dumb. Just ... r-rash."

"I can't e-exactly agree w-with you, y-you know!", Ronan blurted out, as stiff as ever. It was an understatement to assume that he was uncomfortable, but he tried his best to blend in and avert all the unwanted attention he had now, some pairs of eyes glued onto him and being forced to be here, when he didn't even want to come here to begin with. In the end, he could blame all of this on his father and his own inability to make friends or understand social cues, were things to go south - and it probably would start with Caelan pouring him another glass of wine and Ronan immediately knowing that he should not drink that, especially not to combat his nervousity. "Sucks to be you", he retaliated at Caelan and for one, didn't stutter, but also knew that this was just a friendly jab at him - as if this oversized puppy would actually be hurt by the words of someone about as sturdy as a rotten leaf in the harsh winter wind. His eyes and ears followed the conversation that the blonde and Ethan had and for one, it felt nice to hear that Caelan always seemed to have his head in the clouds. Ronan wouldn't have thought of him any other way, but for some reason the sole confirmation of it made him feel a lot more relaxed, as well as the silly banter between friends did - despite the buzzing noise at the back of his head that tried to remove the rest of the far off crowds.

"I-I will", Ronan said, as his eyes still followed what Ethan was doing - was he really going to play card games with him and Caelan, or was this a dream he was having and he'd actually fallen off of his horse all the way back in Alster? Whatever it was, who cared? This seemed to be reality and learning something new never was bad, at least not if he could use the skill at some point. "And you're j-just gonna a-admit that w-without protest?", he asked, staring at Caelan once more. Did he let go of his pride and other standards because this was something between friends, or was he just admitting to his mistakes and the fact that even he lacked in certain aspects? Ronan had no idea why, but he was kind of surprised - Caelan was being honest, which wasn't bad, just suprising and potentially even more confusing to some people of their status. "Mhm", Ronan mused, unsure what to even actually do and picking up his own cards, looking at his hand and trying to apply what Ethan had explained to him mere seconds ago - the concept wasn't all that hard to grasp, that was for sure. "I'm ready", he sighed, as he watched the playful banter between these two and then, to no surprise of himself, shook his head. "At least he's honest", Ronan said, as he played one of the cards on his hand - god, where was this gonna take him?

Ronan didn't fell comfortable, not now and he knew that that wouldn't be the case anytime soon, but instead of bolting off and trying his best to disappear within the crowd, he sat there and let wave after wave of embarrassedness wash over him, tried to focus on the cards that looked all blurry all of sudden and even when he regained his will to actually fight through it, he still felt nauseous and as if he were dealing with someone that he could never beat. If he acted anything like this during the tournament, on an actual battlefield, he'd lose - he'd already have lost before he started doing anything and that was, without doubt, more than apparent. God, why was he thinking about this kind of stuff right now, right here and why was it so hard to just focus on a mindless game of cards, trying to beat a guy that he actually, maybe, kind of regarded as his friend and found undeniably hot!? Ronan wanted to choke on his own thoughts, admitting to himself yet again that it wasn't Caelans sweettalk that enamored him like a damsel in distress, out for distant riches, but rather the looks of the charming young fellow, trying his hardest to actually beat him in a game of cards that he should have no problems with - and he earnestly tried.

"True", he answered. It also was no use to try and pretend that Darragh was a caring, doting and loving father, but sometimes, one had to make sacrifices to actually get somewhere in life, even if that meant that somewhere was in the morgue - if he sticked around any longer, at least when his father was in a bad mood - he'd soon see himself, bleeding out on the floor and not managing to do shit right in his life. Ronan was appaled by the thought alone and rather focused on his cards, on what Caelan did and on how to beat him, without having to ask his friend for help - was it because he didn't want to appear as someone weak or was it instead that his pride forbade him from truly enjoying himself and just making and doing whatever he desired? "Well, beating you wasn't really easy, I'll give you that!", Ronan said once all was said and done and he laid down his own cards, as if one game would fix all of this. Instead, his gaze wandered to Caelan again, before it stopped, glued directly to his chest for a second, just seconds before meeting his eyes again. "What now? Do you want to lose again?" Did he just joke in front of a few other people? Likely.

This was an expected outcome - not him winning, but Caelan eventually indulging in his own desires and doing what was right for him, whereas Ronan was but thin air for the time being. It was fine, this was only temporary, just like their friendship - ties like those would break and Caelan had said himself that, if he spend time with a lady, they'd usually be discarded right after he got what he wanted. Who was to say that it wouldn't be the same for him? Being thrown away like an used tissue was fine to him, instead, he peered at his third glass of wine for the evening and sighed - Caelan had claimed that, ultimately, his goal was not to make the young heir drunk, but at this rate, the alcohol in Alster could be oh so strong and even something like wine would, eventually, turn him into a brainless piece of flesh and bone, only reduced to whatever his body could muster up in a state like that. Taking a sip, he eventually was the one that - startled like a cat by the sudden touch on his arm - diverted his attention back to the one that actually wanted it for now; which was Ethan, rather than Caelan.

"Oh, sure!", the young noble said. He feared that Ethan would beat him, but even if he did, this was nothing more than a game and life was designed so that - in the end - one would ultimately lose their life, so all of this was nothing more than subtle preparation for what was up ahead, even if it wasn't that deep to begin with. Nothing in life was certain, not even victory - just death and that was about it. "I feel honored to hear that and I'd love to try." Ronan wasn't here to make friends, wasn't there to entertain those of Caelan, but actually he didn't mind - taking his mind off of all these silly things was way more enjoyable than anything else and the fact that he had to deal with most of it was ... surprisingly endurable. Whatever he did, or actually even just tried, didn't necessarily even matter - it all would lead to the same end, just like Orlando ended up with them and would - sooner or later - ask about Darragh again, to squish every last detail out of him. "Hm, if it's fine with the two of you I'll try to beat Orlando first and then, maybe, you? How does that sound?" The fact that his voice sounded somewhat excited, but his face remained about as tepid and gloomy didn't help, did it now?

Ronan was content with what he had - wine, some cards and probably two people that could talk with one another if he stopped feeling like talking, or just wanted to get up to enjoy his book. Caelan was, simply, an afterthought for now - even if he had a crush on him, which seemed unlikely and yet he was pretty sure he did - Caelan wouldn't care for a man like him either way, if he put it simply. There was nothing in this world that Ronan could actually, truly give him, not love or even his hand in marriage, let alone an heir - and yet, he was thinking too fast and too far about things that were out of question. Even if it was just a simple kiss, to feel the rough skin of Caelan on his own and get messed up by him, it seemed like something that was out of his grasp. "I guess it was just beginners luck, but we'll see", he responded to Orlando, who seemed full of vigor himself. Was this what it meant to have fun, or was it rather that the good mood infected all of them? "Well, if you insist", the noble said and couldn't imagine drinking a bottle of wine on his own - not, that it tasted bad, it just would be a horrible idea to begin with.

Cards in hand and advice from Ethan at his side, this was starting to get a lot more interesting - whereas Caelan was trying, but not always, Orlando actually knew the rules of the game as it seemed and abided them, but also wasn't willing to stomach a whole bottle of wine. Ronan himself was kind of baffled - he had fun, hadn't experienced something like this in the long run and eventually, his eyes were more focused on the game than glancing at Caelan for a second; after all, he had said that he wanted to win this and that hadn't been a lie. Whatever they both tried however, it only seemed to culminate in the other making up for his mistakes in the next round and whereas he could have asked Ethan, the only time he did was when he was unsure about something - which, actually, happened maybe twice. Ronan disliked losing more than he hated winning something, which, in the end culminated in him actually beating Orlando, even if not by a landslide. "Sooo, the bottle is yours, I guess?" Ronan of Alster was, in fact - but only sometimes -, a cocky asshole with a shiteating grin.

Orlando's behavior amused Ronan, to say the very least. It wasn't uncommon for him to win something if he put his mind to it, especially since Ethan had proved to be a great instructor and Ronan's grasp on the game had come easier than expected anyway. "I won, fair and square, but if you want a revanche, I won't decline, you know", the young noble mused, as he watched - almost in awe but also horror - how Orlando just took the bottle of wine, held it to his lips and started gulping down on it. Despite Ronan not being a fan of wine, he himself took a sip from his not so empty glass, watching on and on, before he was pulled back to reality - and Caelan was the culprit. "Uh, thanks. I will, don't worry", he whispered faintly as he diverted his gaze back to Orlando, who by now had drank every last drop from the bottle and was letting himself fall back - deservedly so - to relax and not be confronted by the mistake he just had committed. "Sorry about that", he immediately said, as he watched the fellow noble succumb and lay there. Ethan didn't seem to mind and the rest of his friends also seemed like they had known this was going to happen.

His goal was to beat Ethan, but that seemed almost impossible - even with Caelans silent encouragement and him disappearing to get some water for their - apparent - lightweight 'friend', the tension didn't fall all that much. Whatever should he do? Hope that this would be over soon, that he'd die struggling rather than use an onesided conflict from start to finish? It was just like that - from the moment he picked up his cards, to the moment he sat them down, tension was spiking and it felt oh so weird to not have Caelan around - maybe he was thinking too much of it, but in the end, he probably was just another easy adversary to Ethan, who - albeit not all that flawlessly - took him down pretty quick, no matter what the black haired noble tried, his opponent almost always seemed to have the right answer, or well - card -, to deny him even just a small victory. In the end, Ronan was the one that had lost against Ethan, the one that put the rest of his cards down and sighed. "Well played!", he said, slightly and earnestly smiling in Ethans direction, before he slid his own cards across the table. "That was fun, thank you for teaching me."