kittencafe | Necessitas is the mother of frustration

Necessitas is the mother of frustration

Her parents are actually going through with this. Carolina has negotiated and argued for countless hours now, only to find out that they signed the treaty behind her back. Never mind that she will one day rule the country of Necessitas in her mother's place. She's being married off like chattel to a man who cares more about his profligate affairs with various lovers than about his own kingdom.

Some stories call him a demon. Carolina is already convinced he's a monster.

She won't weep. Not in front of the court. But when she sweeps into the privacy of her own room, angry tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "This is wrong," she whispers.

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She rests her chin on a propped arm as she continued to study his moves, dissecting them as he moves about against his opponent. He was good. Not the end all be all of blade work but certainly worthy of being given permission to enter into any contests he desires.

"If you're trying to be uninteresting," she muses, "there are far better ways to do so. Flaunting usually only makes attention worse."

Wash pauses when he hears the woman speak, and he steps back from his match to turn to her. He eyes her curiously, although she's out him on edge in any case. He just doesn't want to look like a paranoid former assassin.

He shrugs and grabs for the water canteen at the edge of the ring. "I'm not flaunting."

"Yes you are. You're a slippery snake when it comes to moving around with your blade." She glances away from him to watch the other trainees with a mild bored expression. "They're trying and you don't have to. It shows."

"Better question would be if you're not a personal guard to Prince York then what purpose do you have? Too much skill to simply be a charmer on someone's arm. That or merely played with in bed."

He follows her gaze over to the other people training, frowning as he observes them. They aren't as good as he is. That's easy to tell. But he hadn't thought that he was making it that obvious. Her next question though is far more worrying. And unsettling. He doesn't flinch at her comment, but it stings anyway. Too close to what Florida had said.

"A Prince should always have more than one guard."

She watches for a couple of moments to let the words sink in for Washington before regarding him once more. There doesn't seem much alarm in his posture but she would continue to dig nonetheless. These foreign men had far too much hiding and plenty of rumors so it was best for the guard to uncover what was true.

"He only has one personal guard. I should know. Besides you don't carry yourself like one. So care to answer my question?"

Why wasn't that acceptable. Prince should have more than one guard. Was it so unbelievable that York might have one who was less obvious than North?

"I'm just a close friend of York's. His companion."

Well isn't that considerably disappointing? Still she doesn't fully believe in that that's all he is but no matter.

"So you are an arm charm."

"I'm hardly hanging off his arm looking pretty," he says, making a face at the idea. "I'm just a friend."

"The prince has friends that he keeps his pants on for?" She's heard the rumors, Wash. York wouldn't have left his harem behind and everyone he brought sure made quite the variety in the boy band.

Louisiana looks away. "Besides that Sigma seems to be the more charm type anyway compared to you."

"He has people who are exceptionally loyal to him," Wash replies instead. Whether they're fucking or not doesn't seem relevant.

"Sigma is very charming, yes."

"So what draws you to the competition," she asks. Enough interrogating about the prince and his cohorts. "Asides from the whole grandeur and all."

That's quite the change of tack. Wash frowns a little at her, but then shrugs. It's easier to talk about. "I thought it looked like fun." And that at least is honest.

Keep up, Mister not guard or arm charm. She was here to figure things out for security reasons as well as to report back to her lady. And maybe it didn't hurt to know more about the stranger that knew so much about blade fighting.

"They can be fun," she agrees. "Are you only good with knives or does your skill extend to others? Might be able to do more than one challenge that way."

Anywhere else, he doesn't think he'd mind talking so much about what he's good at, but here it's a little more uncomfortable. He feels like he should be holding something back. Keeping it secret.

"I've trained in a few things, but knives are what I enjoy most."

"I can tell," she returns. Louisiana checks him for sign of change, trying to see how he ticked. Certainly less of a showoff compared to Sigma and not the all business stoic guard from the dance the other night. "You'll probably reign supreme over this lot. Sorry for the not so great competition."

He offers a small smile at that, a shy expression. She's the first person outside of York's... companions, who he's really spoken to. He didn't have much to do with anyone at York's palace.

"I don't mind. I'm not really here for the competition. It just gives me an excuse to keep practising."

Well he certainly wasn't being a fool nor an asshole to her so winning points thus far. Maybe the boy band wasn't complete and total loss after all. The smile was fairly nice. Much more nice compared to the whole guarded look he had going earlier.

She hums softly. "So what do you do with your time? Asides from all of this training."

"I don't-" He looks uncertain now, miles out of his depth. "I read sometimes. I have lessons." But mostly he trained, even though it wasn't required of him anymore.

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Necessitas is the mother of frustration

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