no bullies or bums, the chums are tens here

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

"It's fine, I got it!" Ronin's cheerful voice from the kitchen of Wildering House comes on the heels of something metallic clattering loudly either onto the counter or the tiled floor, followed by Sugar's tell-tale chirruping that could either be a laugh or a lecture. (It all depends on if she was the culprit of the offending noise). The Taliesins had arrived at Wildering House only ten minutes or so ago - long enough to call hellos up to where Flora and her new beau might be lurking but not enough for formal introductions yet, it seems.

Not that they really need them, given that they've both met Kaisel already, but y'know, if you're gonna have dinner with your girlfriend's parents, it's probably good to make an impression, right?

Having informed everyone beforehand that he'll be the one wearing the chef hat this evening, Ronin has already taken himself into the kitchen with the supplies he's brought along. It's not entirely certain what's there altogether just yet, only that there's enough to feed probably twice as many people than those who are present. And that suits the Knight just fine besides, given demigodly appetites and all that.

For now he's keeping to himself at least, wearing his Kiss The Cook apron and wielding a set of tongs at Sugar in what could be construed as a threat, but only time will tell.

RONIN

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"Good!" Mateo calls in response, because the gods know he doesn't got it. Where his father has taken himself off to play kitchen bitch (not something the botanist is complaining about, by the by), he's arranged himself in the lounge and is currently trying to make the most of the liquor cabinet and the cocktails he might persuade out of it. Yes, yes, that's technically under Flora's purview, but when in Wildering House... something something.

Successfully concocting himself a mai tai and presenting it to the room at large as though it's something sacred, regardless of the calibre of company (it might just be companions for all he cares), Mateo sweeps over to one of the wide bay windows and settles himself there to watch the sun try to set behind the veil of rain that has just started to hammer down outside. "If it gets stormy, can we tell ghost stories?" He grins over his shoulder.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //

"Not sure anyone wants to hear about old lovers that stood you up Mateo," Kaisel quips as he turns a corner into the room where all the chaos is brewing. He means ghosted stories of course, an intended u-turn away from the much spookier subject Mateo definitely meant to focus on, and he's not sorry one bit for tossing it back in the man's face if it means avoiding the alternative.

He's waited to appear until he has Flora in the crook of his arm, both of them ready to face this family gauntlet together. That he's already met them all doesn't alter this being the first formal setting to gather everyone together and assess him in full, a judgement he's all too aware of being handed out in some shape or another. Reassurances that the bar has been buried low after previous ordeals doesn't change his desire to clear the highest rung he can, which is why it took at least three different outfit changes to declare himself ready, each one held up to her for approval.

He stands with his sleeves rolled and cardigan hanging open over a cream henley, the soft blue knit matching his socks patterned with dragons, slate chinos completing the look. It's casual enough for home, but deliberate enough for meeting every pair of eyes that matter, especially hers. His smile wears easy out of habit more than anything else at the moment, rather feeling like he could vomit if she lets go of his arm any time too soon.

Welcome hardly seems the greeting to offer, given this is truly her home and they've already made themselves comfortable in it, so he instead settles on, "hey, need any help?" Aimed more at Ronin in the kitchen, the only place he might be of use.

Kaisel

// Take the music, learn to use it, turn it up 'til your speakers blow fuses //

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Flora had spent the better part of half an hour stretched across the bed like a cat in the sun, offering running commentary on each outfit Kaisel tried. Every time he emerged from the bathroom, she’d purred something encouraging—too sweet, too serious, gods yes, marry that shirt immediately—until he finally landed on the blue knit. Then she’d pulled herself upright, curled her fingers in his collar, and murmured that if he wore that to dinner, she couldn’t promise she’d let him keep it on.

By the time they descend the staircase, her laughter still lingers in the air like perfume. She’s dressed down—black jeans, white crop top, bare feet—but the gold glinting from her wrists and throat turns casual into effortless glamour. Her curls are pinned up haphazardly, a few bright strands spilling down to brush his arm as she leans into him, practically wrapped around his side as they round the corner into the living room.

"Ooohhh, burn Mateo," she drawls just like Alexis, her voice bright and teasing, grin flashing wide enough to match the stained glass light spilling through the skylight above.

Somewhere beyond, the sound of metal clattering and draconic chatter filters from the kitchen, where Spice has joined Sugar in assisting Ronin.

When Kaisel shifts beside her—his polite, eager question about helping Ronin hanging in the air—she tilts her head toward him, aqua eyes catching his with the same soft sparkle they always hold just for him. Leaning closer, her voice drops to a whisper meant for him alone, warm as seafoam against his ear. "Want me to come?" she murmurs, a smile curving at the corner of her mouth; playful, but threaded through with quiet affection that makes the question sound more like we’ve got this, than anything else.

the bastion

Following the cheerful din from the kitchen, Remi appears a moment later with Oria perched lightly on his shoulder, the little spriggan half-hidden in the tumble of his curls. He leaves Ronin to his culinary crusade—some lessons, he’s learned, are best left to repeat themselves—and drifts instead toward the room where Mateo sits with his cocktail and the soft murmur of rain pressing at the windows. The sound of Flora’s voice catches him in passing, and he returns her grin with one of quiet pride, nodding to both her and Kaisel as they move toward the kitchen.

"Flora. Kaisel." His tone is easy, low and warm, carrying that familiar lilt of the travelling tongue before he turns his attention to his son.

Pausing near the edge of the lounge, Remi hesitates long enough for Oria to tug at one of his curls in gentle impatience. A faint smile stirs across his lips as he gestures lightly toward the glass in Mateo’s hand. "Sembra delizioso, Mateo" he says, voice soft and tentative, like he’s testing how close he’s allowed to stand. "C’è qualche possibilità che tu possa farne uno anche per me?"

The question carries more than it asks—less about the drink, more about the space between them—and though he tries to mask it with a faint tilt of humour, his eyes betray the quiet hope that maybe, tonight, they might start to find their way back.

I got a feeling inside that I can't domesticate
It doesn't wanna live in a cage,
A feeling that I can't housebreak

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"No one ever stands me up, Kaisel," Mateo says with his cocktail poised halfway to his lips, his tone breezy and somehow more certain for it. "Perhaps you'll have a tale or two to share, though?" With a dimpled smile - and a halfway traitorous look towards his sister, because that's the weakest burn he's ever felt if it can count as one - the botanist settles into his window seat to watch the rain cover the amber glow of sunset.

Whether he's been ignoring Remi's presence or genuinely hasn't noticed it is something that will stay a mystery, but as the Bastion speaks up in the lilting language of the travelling tongue, Mateo turns towards it like a sunflower towards light. He blinks at his father as if seeing him for the first time in years, or like he's suddenly pulled a sheet off his head and shouted BOO! (another one for the ghost stories). The silence stretches between them for a beat too long, it's true, but when the botanist breaks it, it's with a soft smile.

"È fatto con rum, non con gin," he explains as he gets to his feet, knowing his father's preference for the latter. "Quindi, se non ti dispiace, certo." Heading back to the liquor cart and setting down his drink, he reaches for the various bottles to make another mai tai. 

"Cosa ne pensi di Kaisel?" he asks after a few moments, not bothering to hide his smirk. Because what's the point in speaking another language if you can't abuse it and gossip?

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

"Depends," Ronin calls from the kitchen, the snip-snap of his tongs not sounding nearly as threatening as he hopes it does, "how good are you at slaying dragons?" Popping his head around the doorway, it's with Sugar smugly nestled atop his head that he smiles towards Kai and Flora, nodding for them to come in. He's already started mixing the seasonings and spices in a bowl and preparing the vegetables, but has been understandably distracted by the 'help' of the two companions.

"I'm making jambalaya," he announces with a grin - in truth he's making what's probably the third jambalaya of the week for practice, but neither he nor Remi seem tired of it yet. "But if you want to help make coconut shrimp to start, by all means." He gestures to the rest of the supplies he's brought; freshly caught shrimp, peeled and left with only the tails, breadcrums and shredded coconut.

"Unless you're no good in the kitchen, in which case... please don't help."

RONIN

// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //

The assuredness of Mateo's response delivers a more genuine tilt to his smile. "Can't say I've any more practice than you, so it seems we've an abysmal lack of stories between us," he laments playfully, declining the offer to dig into old relationships with the simple truth that he hasn't been stood up either. Might not be for quite the same reasons as Mateo, but the point remains.

Fortunately, Remi sweeps up Mateo's attention thereafter, once he greets them both and Kaisel responds in kind at least. With the kitchen still roaring in occasional noise, it's no surprise why when Ronin's head appears, the traditional white chef hat replaced with a rather contented looking dragon. It's an absurdly Hallmark moment that sparks a chuckle, some of his worry waning as the color of her family ebbs into all the spaces of her home. "I'll never deny the offer of your company," he murmurs in response to Flora as she kindly tilts towards him like a lifeline just as willing to hold onto him as he it. "Least of all tonight," he mumbles as he turns into her, pressing a brief kiss at her temple, mindful not to disturb the careful pinning of any curls. He leans into the press of her with gratitude for a moment before steering them both towards Ronin's takeover of the kitchen.

"Can't say I've bested Spice yet," Kaisel admits with a humored sigh of defeat as he rounds to the counter, uncurling himself from Flora for the time being, a warm glance slipped her way in so doing. "But, I can definitely get the jump on some shrimp," he assures, focus drifting to the array of food Ronin has laid out. Heading to the sink to wash his hands in preparation, he sneakily works out a piece of paper and pen from a pocket.

With all the stealth of a teenager trying to text on their phone during class, he jots down a note on his parchment with Flora, rousing a laugh in response to Ronin's warning. "I'll let Flora pass judgement on that, but I wouldn't dream of getting in your way here chef." He slips the note and pen back in his pants, washing in the sink and flicking the water away before stealing a hand towel for his shoulder and setting about to organizing some bowls. One for flour, a few eggs cracked into the other, and breadcrumbs and coconut combining in the third.

Kaisel

// Take the music, learn to use it, turn it up 'til your speakers blow fuses //

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

The kiss to her temple earns a soft, honeyed hum, contentment curling through her chest like steam rising from warm tea. For all of their jokes and how they spin gold out of chaos, there’s a quiet steadiness in the way Flora leans into Kaisel’s side, like she could soak up his affection and return it tenfold with the shield of her body his to use against the drama of family dinners.

Only when he parts to wash his hands does she finally lift her weight from him, and even then, the separation is softened by the small, snowy blur that rises from the countertop. Spice flutters to Kai’s shoulder, coiling delicately around the curve of his neck, chirping like a sous-chef with far too much enthusiasm and no grasp of personal space. She snorfles approvingly at every movement of his hands, clearly judging him—and perhaps Ronin—on shrimp technique alone.

Flora, for her part, is already drifting around the kitchen like a barefoot stormcloud full of mischief. She dips a finger into the seasoning bowl Ronin is mixing, makes a theatrical show of testing it, and then plucks a bit of bell pepper from the prepped vegetables with all the grace of a girl who owns not only the house but everyone in it.

But it’s the furtive flick of Kai’s parchment that redirects her, her gaze catching the subtle movement the way a magpie spies something glittering. Her brow arches, not even pretending she won’t investigate; this is her kitchen, her family, her man. She plucks her own parchment from the pocket of her jeans and steps lightly beside him, eyes skimming the message he’s left as her curls sway forward in curiosity. Her breath catches in her throat; not sharply, but suddenly, like she wasn’t quite braced for the sweetness of it. Colour rises instantly in her cheeks, blooming like sunrise over the ocean, and when her eyes lift to meet his, the smile that unfurls on her lips is nothing short of radiant. Golden and lovestruck and shining with something that sparkles between them like champagne bubbles rising too fast.

She mouths I love you, the words slow and soft, her fingers brushing her curls back before she winks, shameless, warm, glittering.

But before she can dissolve entirely into heart-eyes and kitchen-floor fantasies, a familiar sound filters in from the other room. The travelling tongue rolls through the air like a song only half-heard, its cadence unmistakable, and her eyes roll to the ceiling with theatrical frustration. "Ronin," she murmurs, teeth catching her lower lip as she cranes her neck toward the Knight, "do you know what they’re saying in there?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turns to Kaisel, expression both amused and exasperated as she explains. "Remi was an ass to Mateo after I died," she says cheerfully, as if they’re discussing the weather. "This is the first time they’ve really spoken since." She squints toward the doorway again, nose wrinkling. "But I can't tell if he's apologizing or if they're about to start arguing again."

the bastion

A quiet chuckle hums low in Remi’s chest, his shoulders easing as the air between them finally begins to feel less brittle. "Bevo più del solo gin, sai," he replies lightly, the words carrying a soft tease rather than correction. His smile deepens with the faintest trace of relief; after so many months of distance, he’d drink seawater if it meant hearing his son’s voice directed his way again.

Stepping closer, he leans one hip against the edge of a nearby chair, lowering his tone as if to spare the house’s mischief from learning too much travelling tongue at once. Oria peers up from his shoulder, her tiny eyes glimmering before she disappears behind a curl again.

When Mateo’s smirk curls wider, Remi can’t help but mirror it, the expression small but genuine. He tilts his head, the brow he raises both amused and searching.
"Kaisel sembra...gentile," he says after a measured pause, the single word carrying layers of careful diplomacy that Mateo knows all too well. Then, with that quiet glint of humour that edges toward self-deprecation, he adds, "E tu? Cosa ne pensi tu di lui?"

I got a feeling inside that I can't domesticate
It doesn't wanna live in a cage,
A feeling that I can't housebreak

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

gratuitous violence; unnecessary, satisfying, heartbreaking

While Spice goes to sous-chef for Kaisel, Ronin finally thinks he can get a handle on all the dragons in the kitchen. And so with Sugar now happily perched in his dark hair to supervise again, he turns back to his prep, playfully swatting at Flora's hand as she comes to steal a bit of bell pepper (before grabbing a slice of it for himself for good measure). "Then you shrimp and I'll jambalaya," he confirms to Kai. "But Remi will know if they aren't up to his standard."

And he'll probably eat them anyway, but whatever.

"Mm?" Cocking his head to the side as Flora draws his attention towards the living room and the music lilting from it as Mateo and Remi speak, the Knight can't help the soft smile that overtakes his expression. Not because of what's being said, but just because of who is saying it. "Oh, they're gossiping about Kai," he says easily.

He's only actually caught the words gin and think and Kaisel, but that's enough apparently. "Anyway, want a beer?" he asks the subject of the gossip in question.

RONIN

Mateo

champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"Lo so, ma è il tuo preferito," Mateo trills in response as he prepares another mai tai for his father. "...Lo è ancora, vero?" he adds a little uncertainly; it's been a long time and the botanist knows that more than anyone (having been the one to put that space between them), so Remi's tastes might well have changed since they last shared a drink together. Moving past that rather swiftly to decorate the cocktail with a little yellow umbrella, he passes it across to the Bastion with a quick smile before grabbing his own for a very healthy sip of it.

Almost choking to let out a scoff of laughter - gentile is a death knell in all languages. "Lo conosco da quando eravamo bambini," he says with a wave of a hand. "Non mi sarei mai aspettato che stesse con Flora, ma è un bravo ragazzo." He raises his eyebrows and smiles over the rim of his glass, as if to say so you should maybe be good too.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //

Ditto, he mouths back, perhaps unsuccessfully with the curl of a smile trying to take over. Settling into shrimping for the time being, Kaisel offers one up to Spice, purely for taste testing reasons of course and nothing to do with bribery or the fact she is the true perfect baby angel of this household. Flora's question lifts his gaze, the sound of the more distant conversation and the fact he doesn't understand a word otherwise something he'd tuned out, focus staunchly on not fucking up Ronin's dinner.

"Oh?" His expression lifts with the surprise of the sudden drama she doles out for him, specifically her death tossed over the counter like nothing more than an appetizer. It dries his throat for a moment, and he shakes his head as though it might clear it, and any lingering thoughts of her demise. He glances in the direction of the two men as if putting faces to figures would piece it all together. "Guess that means the idea of a family game night is out? Don't need to stoke competitive arguments alongside any others." Some pictionary or charades is usually a good icebreaker, but could end up putting someone on ice too.

Speaking of ice, he feels like Spice is breathing down his neck the way his nerves prick in response to Ronin. "Me?" he says a bit too high pitched for his liking, and turns to clear his throat into his arm. It shouldn't be a surprising topic, all things considered, but the ease with which it's admitted to is what's got him a bit stunned. "Wh—uh—well whatever keeps the peace, I guess," he laughs nervously, nodding a strong agreement to the offer of a beer, feeling like he should have pregamed a bit first and shotgunned one in the room.

Kaisel

// Take the music, learn to use it, turn it up 'til your speakers blow fuses //

is this the end of all the endings?

As Kaisel mouths ditto, Flora’s breath catches like she’s been struck through the ribs with something molten and sweet. Her head tilts, curls brushing her shoulder as she tries not to visibly swoon, but gods, it’s a near thing. The look she gives him is soft and stunned and aching with affection, like she wants to scream or cry or drag him upstairs and lock the door. Instead, she just stands there and burns, her heart a bonfire behind the gold of her smile, the blush high across her cheeks like a bloom unfurling.

Spice, bless her scaly little heart, chomps the shrimp like it’s her solemn duty to protect the culinary integrity of the household. Her pearly neck stretches toward the bowl with curious ceremony, nostrils twitching, long-lashed eyes fixed on Kaisel as if awaiting further samples or tributes.

Flora doesn't intervene, for the moment she’s too busy melting, at least until Ronin translates that Remi and Mateo are gossiping about Kai. Her expression shifts in a snap, saccharine gone sour as she pivots on her heel. "Rude," she says, the word soaked in performative scandal. Without waiting for an answer, she storms toward the archway between the kitchen and the lounge like a prosecutor taking the floor.

A loud, deliberate ahem cuts through the air, Flora framed by sea-blue walls and golden light as she levels an accusatory gaze at the two men in question. Her aqua eyes narrow, her brows arch, and her hand finds her hip with choreographed flair. [asy]"If the two of you have nothing better to do," she announces, voice bright and falsely polite, "I would quite like a drink, and someone can set the table." She was going to have the spirits do it, but now it seems a better task for gossip 1 and gossip 2.

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3