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In Blackmoore Academy, the prince of Ixia walks along the paths of the Academy’s lush garden, his left hand on the handle of his Rapier sheathed in the scabbard which hangs by his side, chest almost puffed out with a proud, and undeniably, smug smile on his face. Naturally, with his popularity, a crowd forms behind him, mostly Ixian, following him like he’s a Hollywood celebrity and they’re the paparazzi trying to get an ounce of his fame. Occasionally, the Ixian prince would entertain some of them, signing their notebooks, shaking someone’s hands—so on, so forth. But of course, they still had classes, so as soon as the bell rang, the crowd would scatter around the campus, frantically running to their classrooms as to not be late. The prince, however, wasn’t so concerned on punctuality, instead taking his time as he headed for his next class—chemistry.
Truth be told, however, the laboratory was quite a while’s away (about a 3 minute walk from the garden), and while normally if you’d rushed you could get there in under a minute and a half, he instead took his own time, though, he did not seem to slow down for leisure. When the crowd was away, he looked to be pondering something deeply, his head cast downwards to his steps. He wasn’t sure where this sudden urge for thought had come from, but was promptly interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Hey, Golden Boy? Apollo? Hello-o?” A familiar dead-sounding voice called out to him from beside him, to which he promptly perked his up to the side to see who called him (even if he could tell by that voice). To his right, sitting down on one of those low-rising half-walls with a wide base for students to lounge on. She looked to be in the middle of packing some jars into her backpack, with two jars still laid out, and behind it what looks to be a severed hand.
“Ah! Darcy Graves, fancy meeting you here!” Apollo replied, snapping out of his thoughts, slowly approaching her. “And, might I ask why you aren’t in class?”
“I could say the same for you,” Graves replied, rolling her eyes “but at least I have a reason.” Her eyes wandering to the few students still running around campus, eagerly trying not to miss their classes.
“Pfft, what, it’s not like I forced them to follow me like lambs, right?” Brushing it off with a shrug and a laugh, he walked towards where Graves was sitting, taking a seat with her back facing towards him.
“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say, golden boy.” With the same tone of dismissiveness she had always used for everyone, she rolled her eyes once again and continued to work on trying to fit the jars she brought into her backpack.
Apollo scoffed a bit, then ultimately sighed with a shrug—but, for once, he didn’t make a snarky reply. Instead, he just looked down towards the floor a few feet below him with thoughts clearly weighing on his mind.
After a few seconds of silence, Graves furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, then snapped her around to see the—usaully—quick and swift Apollo had gone unusally silent, and to add, abnormally pensive too. “Uh.” She hesitated, although she didn’t exactly know where she was going with that, if she was going anywhere at all. “A-hem,” she cleared her throat, setting down sorting her bag for a moment “...alright.” Turning herself as sit side-by-side alongside him, she followed his gaze, which led her to nowhere as he was staring straight at the concrete floor. So, she looked around them, trying to see if there was some mystical force stopping him from talking, or maybe bewitching him to be in a more depressive mood, but neither she, or the severed hand noticed anything abnormal within the surrounding. Resigned, she took a deep sigh, and opened her mouth to speak. “So… uhm, what’s got you troubled–?”
“Do you know that feeling where no matter what you say, what you do, no-one seems to really listen to you?” Apollo abruptly spoke, slowly shifting his head towards Graves.
Oh christ, he’s thinking about THIS… She thought, closing her eyes and taking a long sigh of relief. “You wouldn’t even know.”
He chuckled a bit, yeah, I should’ve probably expected that… he thought to himself, forgetting that he’s talking to the one person who would most definitely know what he’s talking about. “How do you, err… deal with it?” He asked, though he probably knew the answer would be something along the lines of: ‘Well, I go to the cemetery to calm my thoughts and talk to the graves, since they’re great listeners.’ or something expectable like that.
“Well, I used to go the cemetery to calm my thoughts and talk to the graves, but my Mentor has my back and is who I talk to about this stuff nowadays.” She replied, to Apollo’s amusement as he laughed a bit. “What’s so funny?”
“Hah… It’s nothing, really, it’s nothing.” Clearing his throat and recomposing himself, he turns back to her. “Though… Well, I’m not exactly free to be under the mentorship of a Lich.” He made a good point, his very nature of being of Ixian royalty made it very difficult for him to sneak out like that without getting recognized.
“I mean you don’t need to have go on the exact journey I did, you definitely don’t seem like you need the power of my Mentor, nor do you fit the bill for it—no offense.”
“None taken, but I still can’t leave on my own without a billion eyes staring at my every move, you know.”
“That’s why you do it at night, like 3 AM or some shit like that.” She said in a matter-of-factly tone, which while warranted, still perturbed Apollo. “If you’re a scaredy cat and you don’t wanna go late out in the night, then I’ll come and tag along with if that’ll make you feel any better.”
“Why, thank you for the kindest of gestures, madam Darcy Graves—your escortment of the Prince of Ixia will be paid due tenfold!” He said sarcastically, theatrically twirling about his hands dramatically, before dropping down his sarcastic facade. “But that’s not the point.”
“Alright, then enlighten me—what is?”
“I mean, I could talk and talk, but I won’t be acknowledged, I won’t get a response, nothing like that.”
“Wait, wait…” She lifted her palm up to him, slightly tilting her head curiously. “Why do you need to be acknowledged?” That question irked him a bit, although he knew she had good intentions (probably), it still put him off, which showed as he scowled slightly at the question.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” He gave a short response, scratching at his nape.
“Don’t you already have that? Acknowledgement, I mean. Like, you’re popular popular.”
“So? So what if the whole of Ixia thinks I’m great? That doesn’t mean anything if…” Apollo catches himself, as if he was about to say something shameful, he buries his head in his hands with a deep and heavy sigh.
“If…?”
Apollo hesitates for a moment, then finally looks at his watch and abruptly goes down from where he was sitting. “If nothing—class is starting soon, we wouldn’t want to catch an absence slip, would we? A nightmare and an earful from both our parents.” He joked, trying to lighten up the mood.
Graves scoffed and rolled her eyes, swiftly packing up her things hastily, not caring how disorganized it was, and followed Apollo going into their chemistry class. This time, Apollo didn’t have the luxury of taking his leisurely pace, since Graves was quite quick on her step, which while it isn’t a problem to keep up, it was merely a minor inconvenience (or perhaps even less than that).
The pair finally arrive to their class, with Apollo opening the door flamboyantly—as per usual. The teacher, an old human professor, looked to the both of them with inquisitive eyes, arms crossed and her chin raised upwards almost as if to look down on them. “And where were you two when the bell had rung? It’s almost been 30 minutes!”
Apollo’s face scrunched with a frown for a split second before anyone could realize it, and he reverted to his usual charismatic smile. “Well, you see, Ms. Darcy here had tripped and fallen over some bushes, so naturally I had to help her in her precarious situation!”
Graves glared at Apollo with a nasty side-eye, her eyes seething with anger, but blows it off in a long exhale away from the teacher’s gaze.
“Hm, fine, I’ll allow it—just this time, go to your seats the lot of you.” The teacher dismissed them to their seats, returning to her textbook and blackboard.
The two of them went to their seats, put on their labcoats, goggles, gloves, and sat down at their table, where there was a conical flask with a burette above it, with stands holding them in place. From one look, Graves noted that this would be a titration type of activity, but since she and Apollo weren’t exactly struggling with academics, she was more pressed on other matters.
“Alright, dickhead, mind telling me why you threw me under the bus?” Graves asked sharply, nudging her elbow into his ribs as he was inspecting the liquid inside the burette.
“Ow- I’ll buy your lunch this whole week to make up for it, just needed to get a good excuse, and the opportunity was there.” He replied, taking his hands off the set-up.
“Fine, but I swear to god, if you embarrass me one more time like that, I-”
“Yeah, you’ll ‘make sure that you’ll shove this sword up the ass of the Prince of Ixia’ it’s getting stale, you know?”
“Hah, unbelievable.” Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she turns towards the blackboard again, trying to steer her boredom away with the senseless ramblings of their teacher. That is, after a while, she notices that her partner has been uncharacteristically been pensively zoning out.
“What do they even matter anymore… It’s not like they’ll…” Apollo mutters under his breath, before getting a tap on the shoulder by his lab partner. “... Hm?”
“What’s with the thinking man impression?” She asked in a hush tone, as to not arouse the attention of the teacer.
“Oh, it’s uhm, nothing.” Responding in the same hushed tone, he scratches the back of his ear, letting out a small sigh.
“Bullshit, I saw you scowl when our teacher asked us why we were late, what’s so different now than all the times before?”
“It’s…” Apollo looks up to the teacher, whose back is currently faced to the class. “... nothing, just some personal views is all.”
Vague, okay. She thought to herself, but the experiment was about to begin, so she hadn’t the time to think about it clearly just yet.
The experiment that was carried out went successfully enough, although it was rough in the first few times. Apollo had tried his hand at titrating it properly, but failed, and failed, and failed again, with Graves face-palming everytime Apollo tried to do something semi-theatrically with the flasks. Thankfully, Graves was able to grasp how to do it, and was able to do it flawlessly on her first attempt, which garnered some applause fro some of her classmates, while Apollo looked jokingly unamused.
After their chemistry was history, where the topic was the first Maelstrom—the event which brought the mystical and magical elements into the world, the annexation of Puerto Rico, and the Ixian War. The history teacher was a real patriot, America first and whatnot, stating that the ‘liberation’ of South Ixia was the best thing to ever happen to the Ixians. Graves and Apollo were seatmates, so they often spoke between themselves in this, otherwise, boring subject, but Apollo was, again, like how he was the rest of the day, unusually silent. At this point, Graves had noticed something was most definitely up, even if it were a bit obvious before, she was sure that it was certainly obvious now. So, after history class, Apollo had gone to his Fencing club, since he was the captain of their varsity, he’d take a bit longer there. In the meanwhile, Graves sat outside in a dark corner near the Fencing grounds to, first and foremost, practice her necromancy and occult magic, and secondly, plot what she’d do with her downtrodden friend.
From what she knew, this probably has something to do with him being seen or acknowledged somehow, and how she’d be able to remedy that is to, well, take him to the same place she brought herself, of course! She’d bring him to the cemetery, after all, it helped her—who’s to say it won’t help him? It probably won’t, she knows that, but it was worth a shot. She couldn’t have golden boy being not-so-golden for long, otherwise people might blame her for souring his joy, or some bullshit the Blackmoore little shits would conjure up. Besides, if the dead won’t help, maybe she will, but then again, it’s Apollo, it’s probably nothing.
And come to think of it, why is she doing this for him? It’s not like Apollo is this gloomy depressed guy who desperately needs a friend, it’s honestly quite the opposite. He could probably get more substantial and helpful advice from someone better. But here she is, waiting for him to be done with his Fencing to take him on a therapeutic journey to the graveyard—how beautiful.
It’s currently 8 PM, Graves hasn’t eaten dinner, and Apollo had just left the Fencing grounds. Despite how hangry she may have been, she approaches Apollo—who, at this point—was already ready to be on his way home. “Hey, golden boy, got something to show ya.”
“Wait- What-?”
“Come on, cheer up—you’ll end up looking like me if you wallow in sorrow any longer.” She jokingly said, gesturing him with her hand to follow her.
Reluctantly, Apollo followed, and shortly after they stopped by a nearby convenience store, where Graves bought some fast food to eat.
“Is this it? Convenience store food?” Apollo questioned Graves with a look of utter confusion.
“No, you doofus, I’m just hungry.” A quick reply from Graves as she munched down on the burger she bought. Within a few minutes they both finish their food, and Graves once again leads Apollo to the graveyard, and when Apollo found out where they were actually going… well, let’s just say there may have been some miscommunication.
“...”
“... So, Darcy, what are we doing here in a graveyard?”
“Try it, who knows you might like it.”
“What do you think you’re trying to achieve here?” Apollo asks, walking to a nearby bench which was surrounded by a dozen or so graves. “I already told you that this wouldn’t help.”
“Well, something is obviously up with you, and shit it sure as hell sounded like you needed someone to talk to.” She replied, sitting down next to him. “I mean, you’re sitting on the bench I sit down on whenever I come here, so…”
“Haah…” He sighs heavily, massagin the ridge of his nose in fatigue. “And I though I pride myself in being relentless.”
“You pride yourself in a lot of things, to be fair.”
“Hm, touche.” He stopped rubbing the ridge of his nose, turning instead to the graves surrounding them. “How many of these graves are Ixian, do you suppose?”
“Hm? Well, I’d say at least 1/4th of these graves.”
“And how many would you say that is?”
“Around 70?”
“And how many do you think there are in North Ixia? And how many humans even acknowledge that number? Hell, even acknowledge Ixians in general!”
Ohh fuck, so it WASN’T personal shit. She thought to herself, finally realizing what has been vexing Apollo since she met him today.
“You wanted to know, now you do.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he hangs his head low, eyes facing the floor. “Do you think the humans will ever truly accept my people? That they’ll even acknowledge that they’re people? What would my father think, when he finds out his son has failed to paint the Ixians in a brighter light, that all they see in the Prince of Ixia is this fake, plastic self?”
“Okay, Apollo, chill out.” Placing her hand on his shoulder reassuringly, her eyes looking frantically around, looking for what to say in this situation.
“North Ixia is still a battlefield, you know? America is still waging their war—who knows, maybe North Ixia will become the 53rd state of America, the we’ll be ‘liberated’ like the south, ‘free’ in American imperialism. And what do I do? Sit here in Blackmoore Academy and be pretty and that’s IT! Nothing else! Nothing at ALL!”
“HEY! GET A GRIP OF YOURSELF!” Shouting at him, she takes both of his shoulder’s with her hands, facing him towards her. “You’re doing something, if my eavesdropping on my parents’ law shit made me learn something, it’s that a representative does wonders when it comes to serving justice.”
“And what does their representative do but try his best not to say anything controversial otherwise he’ll damn his entire race back to square one?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you are THE Pride of Ixia, there’s no way that your sole existence is controversial to some (ahem, ahem, Friends of Humanity, ahem ahem).”
Apollo laughs a bit at her attempt at comedy, “I suppose that’s true, but it’s evident that the humans still aren’t going to listen to me, I mean, most of them look down on me.”
“Some humans, after all, I’m listening aren’t I?”
“Hm, I suppose you are.”