Chapter Text
"There's no justifiable reason to make this choice, Mies, it will not help you in the slightest." The words would echo in the stone corridor if it weren't for the large amount of people gathered at an old, ornate table. Their voices are loud, and reverberate as one. Mies can only assume that said table was retrieved from the Dean's office, as it is very old, but shining polished.
Only the highest quality tables for the King's messengers, of course, who stand in the hallway of an old rubled estate, now school. They hold scrolls in their hands, announcing animatedly that the King's Game is upon us all again. "Sign this paper," they say, "the King's Game will enhance your life should you win!"
Mies does not fall for their ploy, but approaches them nonetheless of his own ambition. He has his own plans, goals. Syd does not hold him back, despite her protests. Instead she watches with a deep frown and hooded lids.
Mies is an awkward creature, the soft lines of his body held at odd angles unbecoming of his tawny complexion. A bit plush in the stomach area, but with strong calves. None of his features make anyone swoon, however. He'd be quite attractive if it weren't for his personality.
"I must sign it." He insists. But he insists on everything. Syd decides to take his words lightly.
Syd decides that there is plenty of time to deliver a good scolding. It is of no concern if the duo arrives late to their classes on this day. Many people do not show up to classes at all, really, with the excitement as an excuse. The line is long, and their peers chatter in groups.
Syd instead grabs Mies by the sleeve and pulls. She is stronger than him, yet does not use much of her strength. She is simply using a more physical tactic to convey her displeasure. Mies either does not understand, or is feeling particularly stubborn, as he does not budge.
"It's not as if anything will come of it. I will sign my name, just as I do every year, and nothing will come of it."
Syd clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth, a scolding nose that makes Mies shift on his feet. "Why must you pout over your avoidance of the unfortunate? There are many ways to leave your house should you wish. There and many jobs that you could take. If you were to put more effort in, you could decrease your allotted education time."
Mies lets out a sound akin to a huff, and rolls his eyes, dark in the dim light of the hall. Striking, glowing things the colour of fresh baked gingerbread in the sun.
He hates Moontime gingerbread, I've been told.
"I would like to do something more with my life, Sydney. I am not made for bland jobs and gruesome, neverending study. I am, perhaps, not made for many things. However, I can attempt this."
Syd shakes her head. She has very many opinions in the matter, and attempts to allow Mies a portion of them. One of the King's messengers interrupts, an angered plea to move up, sign, and then leave the line, rather than holding it still.
Mies advances, Syd on his heels. She attempts no scene, allows him to take the quill in shaking fingers. She prays for the poor secretary cursed with deciphering his handwriting, and hopes in vain that it simply cannot be read.
It is read every year, she knows, and the count of his name in the hourglass heightens. It is far above her's, now. Mies is late, and fails a test, he refuses to cease talking, he signs the paper. Each add his name another time, each time his name is added it excites him. It makes Sydney shake and swallow her words, as not a single word is positive.
"Are you planning on doing as you are supposed to? Back to class?" They both have a singular class together. Having both graduated, their classes mainly consist of history and literacy. Math is an occasional class for refreshers, as well as whatever the Dean and/or King consider necessary. That means that quite a lot in done in the name of the Dean, and very little in the name of the King. They could go home early, if not for thr stout man at the head to the school.
"Reagan was incredibly eager to assign me more hours, given the known excitement and leniency." Mies pulls at the pocket watch in Sydney's waist band, his own being either at home or broken. Syd does not care either way, for he will use her watch as he wishes. "In fact, he requires me in thirty minutes."
Syd finds she has no need to gape at his stupidity, it is not surprising in the least. "It is fifteen minutes taking that nasty shortcut down the alleyway, I doubt you'll make it in time. Oh, you have to change as well, especially with the mud you'll collect! I don't suppose you could serve in that, much less at a worse state." Syd glowers over the cape settled over Mies shoulders, the shirt front not quite tied tight enough, the bare chest peaking through. His chest is bare and paler than his tan throat, he is but a boy, and it is not in the least impressive or attractive.
Mies takes a step back, shaking his head with fervor. It traps near black strands in his mouth, thick and wiry, which he spits out. "I will say that I was caught on the way out. It will be no issue." The nod of farewell he grants Syd is lacking in energy, something much more common for the boy. Syd tsks, and strides towards her class, eager for a seat. Hard, slick stone and heated bodies are not good for her knees, worn with work at 23. Though that was a problem of everyone's, so she must not complain. It is work and then education, or education and then work, even for the elders, though only the elders without gold and palaces.
She has learned to not hope for Mies. Not hope that he will succeed in.what he sets to do, not hope that he will soon escape his forefathers and their expectations. He always does these things with little struggle and much luck, but never skill. She thinks that, perhaps, he is just highly intelligent and good at many things, but that once he faces true challenges, he will fall. It's why, in fact, she endeavors to so stubbornly to keep him from The King's Game, for it will only treat him badly.
I respect her for this endeavor, although it came up stale. She did always try, though she never had the luck of Mies.