The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
The winter sun could still be as harsh as the summer, but the difference was the temperature. A little cooler than summer, though not by much, many citizens of Taengea wore their heavier chitons. Even in the outer city where the poorer people lived and worked, most were bundled with slightly warmer outfits. Krysto couldn't blame them. These months weren't particularly a favorite of his, and he had doned his favorite chlamys for the weather. Garbed in the colors of Taengea, Krysto moved along the streets of the outer city with his current patrol.
They had risen early in the day and walked much of the city in that time, looking for any trouble and helping to solve the smaller disputes. The work was not always intense, nor was it always lively. Just as well, sometimes it was boring and there was little to do but patrol the streets or practice with some of the other Order members. As one of the youngest members of the Order, a boy of nearly sixteen, Krysto would usually have had much to prove.
Then again, he had earned his place in the Order the same way that most members did. Being of the common folk, however, the young man had spent the entire six months of his training in service. His friends Achilleas and Stephanos, however, were still allowed to live in their large homes and wear normal clothes whenever they weren't performing Order tasks. That, in and of itself, was a mildly annoying fact, though Krysto had no true opinion on the matter. The men of the noble families were important and had much to learn about the workings of the political world. Thankfully, Krysto's family had no need of politics. Sure, his father liked to debate from time to time, but Krysto's mind was more focused on military matters and he rarely joined in on the conversations.
When Achilleas or Stephanos brought up their day to day dealings with their own political and social landscape, Krysto found himself purely out of his element. Those were the moments when the difference between the three of them was so starkly intense that he sometimes felt misplaced. As if he did not belong in even such a position as he was.
Krysto had to remind himself time and time again that he had worked for where he was. Young as he might be, he had put in the same amount of effort, or even more, than many of the men in the Order. He had everything to be proud of, though his position was not something he found need to flaunt. Unless, of course, he found desire to torment one of two princes of Taengea.
The young soldier glanced ahead of them on the path, noting the form of Stephanos of Mikaelidas on his hands and knees, in the roughspun tunic that would have been given to him when he arrived for that day to be put to work. Pausing a bit, a few of the other men looked back at him to question what he was going. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you guys later," he excused himself, choosing to make his way over to Stephanos instead of follow the rest of the patrol.
Stopping before the young man, Krysto tucked his hands behind his back, seeming to silently observe the work that Stephanos was doing. Scrubbing stones? Harsh. He wondered which Order member Stephanos might have irked to get one of the worst jobs. Of course, everyone had to humble themselves, but sometimes the older Order members could be petty. It was all about honor, but if you had irritated someone enough, suddenly you found yourself on your knees for days, scrubbing stones until you were sure you'd repeat the motions in your sleep. "Good afternoon, your highness," Krysto greeted with a warm smile. "How are the stones treating you?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The winter sun could still be as harsh as the summer, but the difference was the temperature. A little cooler than summer, though not by much, many citizens of Taengea wore their heavier chitons. Even in the outer city where the poorer people lived and worked, most were bundled with slightly warmer outfits. Krysto couldn't blame them. These months weren't particularly a favorite of his, and he had doned his favorite chlamys for the weather. Garbed in the colors of Taengea, Krysto moved along the streets of the outer city with his current patrol.
They had risen early in the day and walked much of the city in that time, looking for any trouble and helping to solve the smaller disputes. The work was not always intense, nor was it always lively. Just as well, sometimes it was boring and there was little to do but patrol the streets or practice with some of the other Order members. As one of the youngest members of the Order, a boy of nearly sixteen, Krysto would usually have had much to prove.
Then again, he had earned his place in the Order the same way that most members did. Being of the common folk, however, the young man had spent the entire six months of his training in service. His friends Achilleas and Stephanos, however, were still allowed to live in their large homes and wear normal clothes whenever they weren't performing Order tasks. That, in and of itself, was a mildly annoying fact, though Krysto had no true opinion on the matter. The men of the noble families were important and had much to learn about the workings of the political world. Thankfully, Krysto's family had no need of politics. Sure, his father liked to debate from time to time, but Krysto's mind was more focused on military matters and he rarely joined in on the conversations.
When Achilleas or Stephanos brought up their day to day dealings with their own political and social landscape, Krysto found himself purely out of his element. Those were the moments when the difference between the three of them was so starkly intense that he sometimes felt misplaced. As if he did not belong in even such a position as he was.
Krysto had to remind himself time and time again that he had worked for where he was. Young as he might be, he had put in the same amount of effort, or even more, than many of the men in the Order. He had everything to be proud of, though his position was not something he found need to flaunt. Unless, of course, he found desire to torment one of two princes of Taengea.
The young soldier glanced ahead of them on the path, noting the form of Stephanos of Mikaelidas on his hands and knees, in the roughspun tunic that would have been given to him when he arrived for that day to be put to work. Pausing a bit, a few of the other men looked back at him to question what he was going. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you guys later," he excused himself, choosing to make his way over to Stephanos instead of follow the rest of the patrol.
Stopping before the young man, Krysto tucked his hands behind his back, seeming to silently observe the work that Stephanos was doing. Scrubbing stones? Harsh. He wondered which Order member Stephanos might have irked to get one of the worst jobs. Of course, everyone had to humble themselves, but sometimes the older Order members could be petty. It was all about honor, but if you had irritated someone enough, suddenly you found yourself on your knees for days, scrubbing stones until you were sure you'd repeat the motions in your sleep. "Good afternoon, your highness," Krysto greeted with a warm smile. "How are the stones treating you?"
The winter sun could still be as harsh as the summer, but the difference was the temperature. A little cooler than summer, though not by much, many citizens of Taengea wore their heavier chitons. Even in the outer city where the poorer people lived and worked, most were bundled with slightly warmer outfits. Krysto couldn't blame them. These months weren't particularly a favorite of his, and he had doned his favorite chlamys for the weather. Garbed in the colors of Taengea, Krysto moved along the streets of the outer city with his current patrol.
They had risen early in the day and walked much of the city in that time, looking for any trouble and helping to solve the smaller disputes. The work was not always intense, nor was it always lively. Just as well, sometimes it was boring and there was little to do but patrol the streets or practice with some of the other Order members. As one of the youngest members of the Order, a boy of nearly sixteen, Krysto would usually have had much to prove.
Then again, he had earned his place in the Order the same way that most members did. Being of the common folk, however, the young man had spent the entire six months of his training in service. His friends Achilleas and Stephanos, however, were still allowed to live in their large homes and wear normal clothes whenever they weren't performing Order tasks. That, in and of itself, was a mildly annoying fact, though Krysto had no true opinion on the matter. The men of the noble families were important and had much to learn about the workings of the political world. Thankfully, Krysto's family had no need of politics. Sure, his father liked to debate from time to time, but Krysto's mind was more focused on military matters and he rarely joined in on the conversations.
When Achilleas or Stephanos brought up their day to day dealings with their own political and social landscape, Krysto found himself purely out of his element. Those were the moments when the difference between the three of them was so starkly intense that he sometimes felt misplaced. As if he did not belong in even such a position as he was.
Krysto had to remind himself time and time again that he had worked for where he was. Young as he might be, he had put in the same amount of effort, or even more, than many of the men in the Order. He had everything to be proud of, though his position was not something he found need to flaunt. Unless, of course, he found desire to torment one of two princes of Taengea.
The young soldier glanced ahead of them on the path, noting the form of Stephanos of Mikaelidas on his hands and knees, in the roughspun tunic that would have been given to him when he arrived for that day to be put to work. Pausing a bit, a few of the other men looked back at him to question what he was going. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you guys later," he excused himself, choosing to make his way over to Stephanos instead of follow the rest of the patrol.
Stopping before the young man, Krysto tucked his hands behind his back, seeming to silently observe the work that Stephanos was doing. Scrubbing stones? Harsh. He wondered which Order member Stephanos might have irked to get one of the worst jobs. Of course, everyone had to humble themselves, but sometimes the older Order members could be petty. It was all about honor, but if you had irritated someone enough, suddenly you found yourself on your knees for days, scrubbing stones until you were sure you'd repeat the motions in your sleep. "Good afternoon, your highness," Krysto greeted with a warm smile. "How are the stones treating you?"
Stephanos had irked someone. He’d irked the Order Head, Krateros, as a matter of fact. Apparently being caught in the washroom with the kitchen maid on his lap was not something that the Head wanted to see. Then, or ever. The only reason that she had not been dismissed from her job, or he kicked from the order, was that nothing had progressed passed getting extremely handsy. She was still intact and Stephanos was left unfinished and frustrated. What ended up happening to her was she had to hold out her hands and have her knuckles rapped with the wooden spoon fifteen times until they were bruised and bleeding a little. And Stephanos was told to scrub every single stone on the street outside the longest street in Vasiliadon. This was day four.
He had ceased to be angry or even humbled by what he was doing. Now he was simply bored out of his mind. He watched the thick, hard bristles of the brush move back and forth over the flagstones. Because the general populace knew the prince by sight, they didn’t heckle him too much. Stephanos wasn’t hated by the people of Vasiliadon by any stretch, and especially not since he joined the Order and had become far more accessible to a few of them. In the years to follow, he’d be the most known of the royal family to the people of the kingdom, while his father and brother were far less available and held up on more of a pedestal. At most, some of the cheekier of the people had come up and rubbed the stubble of hair that grew back on his head.
"Good afternoon, your highness," a voice said and Stephanos glanced up.
“Krysto,” he nodded and kept right on working.
"How are the stones treating you?" Krysto asked and Stephanos ignored him for a few seconds, then remembered that Krysto wasn’t going to go away without some sort of answer. Sitting back on his knees, Stephanos looked down at the stone he was currently working on, and then back at the rest of them that were still fairly clean.
“You know,” he shrugged. “A little less talkative than I’d like, but pretty solid, over all.” Sniffing and wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he looked off for the rest of the patrol that he knew Krysto was supposed to be with. “Skipping your duties?” he asked. He sincerely hoped so, because if Krysto was, then Stephanos had the idea that he was going to casually mention it at the evening meal within Krateros’s hearing. Two could play the ‘getting under the other’s skin’ game.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Stephanos had irked someone. He’d irked the Order Head, Krateros, as a matter of fact. Apparently being caught in the washroom with the kitchen maid on his lap was not something that the Head wanted to see. Then, or ever. The only reason that she had not been dismissed from her job, or he kicked from the order, was that nothing had progressed passed getting extremely handsy. She was still intact and Stephanos was left unfinished and frustrated. What ended up happening to her was she had to hold out her hands and have her knuckles rapped with the wooden spoon fifteen times until they were bruised and bleeding a little. And Stephanos was told to scrub every single stone on the street outside the longest street in Vasiliadon. This was day four.
He had ceased to be angry or even humbled by what he was doing. Now he was simply bored out of his mind. He watched the thick, hard bristles of the brush move back and forth over the flagstones. Because the general populace knew the prince by sight, they didn’t heckle him too much. Stephanos wasn’t hated by the people of Vasiliadon by any stretch, and especially not since he joined the Order and had become far more accessible to a few of them. In the years to follow, he’d be the most known of the royal family to the people of the kingdom, while his father and brother were far less available and held up on more of a pedestal. At most, some of the cheekier of the people had come up and rubbed the stubble of hair that grew back on his head.
"Good afternoon, your highness," a voice said and Stephanos glanced up.
“Krysto,” he nodded and kept right on working.
"How are the stones treating you?" Krysto asked and Stephanos ignored him for a few seconds, then remembered that Krysto wasn’t going to go away without some sort of answer. Sitting back on his knees, Stephanos looked down at the stone he was currently working on, and then back at the rest of them that were still fairly clean.
“You know,” he shrugged. “A little less talkative than I’d like, but pretty solid, over all.” Sniffing and wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he looked off for the rest of the patrol that he knew Krysto was supposed to be with. “Skipping your duties?” he asked. He sincerely hoped so, because if Krysto was, then Stephanos had the idea that he was going to casually mention it at the evening meal within Krateros’s hearing. Two could play the ‘getting under the other’s skin’ game.
Stephanos had irked someone. He’d irked the Order Head, Krateros, as a matter of fact. Apparently being caught in the washroom with the kitchen maid on his lap was not something that the Head wanted to see. Then, or ever. The only reason that she had not been dismissed from her job, or he kicked from the order, was that nothing had progressed passed getting extremely handsy. She was still intact and Stephanos was left unfinished and frustrated. What ended up happening to her was she had to hold out her hands and have her knuckles rapped with the wooden spoon fifteen times until they were bruised and bleeding a little. And Stephanos was told to scrub every single stone on the street outside the longest street in Vasiliadon. This was day four.
He had ceased to be angry or even humbled by what he was doing. Now he was simply bored out of his mind. He watched the thick, hard bristles of the brush move back and forth over the flagstones. Because the general populace knew the prince by sight, they didn’t heckle him too much. Stephanos wasn’t hated by the people of Vasiliadon by any stretch, and especially not since he joined the Order and had become far more accessible to a few of them. In the years to follow, he’d be the most known of the royal family to the people of the kingdom, while his father and brother were far less available and held up on more of a pedestal. At most, some of the cheekier of the people had come up and rubbed the stubble of hair that grew back on his head.
"Good afternoon, your highness," a voice said and Stephanos glanced up.
“Krysto,” he nodded and kept right on working.
"How are the stones treating you?" Krysto asked and Stephanos ignored him for a few seconds, then remembered that Krysto wasn’t going to go away without some sort of answer. Sitting back on his knees, Stephanos looked down at the stone he was currently working on, and then back at the rest of them that were still fairly clean.
“You know,” he shrugged. “A little less talkative than I’d like, but pretty solid, over all.” Sniffing and wiping his nose on the back of his hand, he looked off for the rest of the patrol that he knew Krysto was supposed to be with. “Skipping your duties?” he asked. He sincerely hoped so, because if Krysto was, then Stephanos had the idea that he was going to casually mention it at the evening meal within Krateros’s hearing. Two could play the ‘getting under the other’s skin’ game.
Stephanos was always rather snide in his remarks. Not that that really bothered Krysto at all. He was a prince, after all. He could say whatever he wanted. Then again, Krysto reserved the right to do the same to the plucky prince that was just a little bit taller than Krysto himself. It was why the sarcastic remark about stones not being talkative truly didn't phase him. Instead, Krysto crouched in front of his friend and poked the bristled brush that Stephanos had set down.
"So you aren't a prophet who thinks the stones are the gods speaking with him?" Krysto questioned easily, his position rather casual as he looked Stephanos in the eye. The question of him skipping his duties was funny, considering that Krysto was already a full member of the Order and had volunteered for the patrol with the men that were currently leaving him behind.
They were actually done with the patrol itself. Most of the other men were heading back to the Order House for a meal. That had been where Krysto himself had been heading, but Stephanos had caught his attention. Lifting a slight eyebrow, Krysto turned his gaze to watch the retreating backs of his bretheren. "No. We were finished with the patrol. It's lunchtime now," the young man murmured, letting his gaze wander the stones that Stephanos was scrubbing. "I heard what happened. What did you think the punishment would be?" Krysto asked, sounding both amused and concerned.
Truthfully, he had scrubbed this entire stretch of road once or twice. Initially, Krysto hadn't gotten along with one of the other initiates and a few fist fights lead him to do the same work that Stephanos was right this moment. "I had to scrub this street at least twice when I was an initiate. Though my punishments were for fighting, not touching girls I shouldn't have been," Krysto chastised calmly, a smirk settling on his lips. "Though, many have gotten away with worse," he pointed out, "Its a shame you got caught, your highness."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Stephanos was always rather snide in his remarks. Not that that really bothered Krysto at all. He was a prince, after all. He could say whatever he wanted. Then again, Krysto reserved the right to do the same to the plucky prince that was just a little bit taller than Krysto himself. It was why the sarcastic remark about stones not being talkative truly didn't phase him. Instead, Krysto crouched in front of his friend and poked the bristled brush that Stephanos had set down.
"So you aren't a prophet who thinks the stones are the gods speaking with him?" Krysto questioned easily, his position rather casual as he looked Stephanos in the eye. The question of him skipping his duties was funny, considering that Krysto was already a full member of the Order and had volunteered for the patrol with the men that were currently leaving him behind.
They were actually done with the patrol itself. Most of the other men were heading back to the Order House for a meal. That had been where Krysto himself had been heading, but Stephanos had caught his attention. Lifting a slight eyebrow, Krysto turned his gaze to watch the retreating backs of his bretheren. "No. We were finished with the patrol. It's lunchtime now," the young man murmured, letting his gaze wander the stones that Stephanos was scrubbing. "I heard what happened. What did you think the punishment would be?" Krysto asked, sounding both amused and concerned.
Truthfully, he had scrubbed this entire stretch of road once or twice. Initially, Krysto hadn't gotten along with one of the other initiates and a few fist fights lead him to do the same work that Stephanos was right this moment. "I had to scrub this street at least twice when I was an initiate. Though my punishments were for fighting, not touching girls I shouldn't have been," Krysto chastised calmly, a smirk settling on his lips. "Though, many have gotten away with worse," he pointed out, "Its a shame you got caught, your highness."
Stephanos was always rather snide in his remarks. Not that that really bothered Krysto at all. He was a prince, after all. He could say whatever he wanted. Then again, Krysto reserved the right to do the same to the plucky prince that was just a little bit taller than Krysto himself. It was why the sarcastic remark about stones not being talkative truly didn't phase him. Instead, Krysto crouched in front of his friend and poked the bristled brush that Stephanos had set down.
"So you aren't a prophet who thinks the stones are the gods speaking with him?" Krysto questioned easily, his position rather casual as he looked Stephanos in the eye. The question of him skipping his duties was funny, considering that Krysto was already a full member of the Order and had volunteered for the patrol with the men that were currently leaving him behind.
They were actually done with the patrol itself. Most of the other men were heading back to the Order House for a meal. That had been where Krysto himself had been heading, but Stephanos had caught his attention. Lifting a slight eyebrow, Krysto turned his gaze to watch the retreating backs of his bretheren. "No. We were finished with the patrol. It's lunchtime now," the young man murmured, letting his gaze wander the stones that Stephanos was scrubbing. "I heard what happened. What did you think the punishment would be?" Krysto asked, sounding both amused and concerned.
Truthfully, he had scrubbed this entire stretch of road once or twice. Initially, Krysto hadn't gotten along with one of the other initiates and a few fist fights lead him to do the same work that Stephanos was right this moment. "I had to scrub this street at least twice when I was an initiate. Though my punishments were for fighting, not touching girls I shouldn't have been," Krysto chastised calmly, a smirk settling on his lips. "Though, many have gotten away with worse," he pointed out, "Its a shame you got caught, your highness."
"So you aren't a prophet who thinks the stones are the gods speaking with him?" Krysto teased and Stephanos paused again in his scrubbing. One eye squinted closed against the glare of the sun, he eyed his Order brother with an open mouthed smile.
“That’s not a prophet. That’s your lunatic father. I’m shocked you brought him up. How brave of you.” He hadn’t meant for the joke to come out quite that mean, but now that it had, he wasn’t going to take it back. The truth of the matter was he didn’t know anything about Krysto’s family, or if the other’s father was wholly sane or not, or even alive or not. Achilleas got on better with Krysto than Stephanos did. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t alright with each other, but he hadn’t taken the same steps towards a deeper friendship. Stephanos’s interests had been elsewhere as of late and Krysto had the audacity to bring it up.
"I heard what happened. What did you think the punishment would be?"
“I wasn’t thinking of what would happen because we weren’t going to get caught,” he moved the bristle brush away from Krysto, dunked it in the bucket, and started on the next stone. This was almost cathartic. Or had been, without Krysto prodding his temper on purpose. “I was thinking about her sitting on my cock and my hand on her tit. I did see them. They’re smaller than I thought they’d be,” he added, though it wasn’t necessary. “I liked them though.”
"I had to scrub this street at least twice when I was an initiate. Though my punishments were for fighting, not touching girls I shouldn't have been. Though, many have gotten away with worse. It's a shame you got caught, your highness."
“It is a shame,” Stephanos agreed, scrubbing hard at this new stone, as though he cared about doing a good job. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but he wasn’t interested in Krateros walking up, hands behind his back, making that ‘hmmm’ sound and then instructing him to do it all over again. That would be the worst. “I won’t get caught next time,” Stephanos decided out loud. And he definitely wouldn’t toy with that particular maid again. Stephanos wasn’t completely heartless. He knew that if they were caught a second time, even after he was a full fledged member of the Order, she’d lose her position entirely and risk starvation and he had no plans to do the honorable thing and marry a servant. It was best to leave her alone.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
"So you aren't a prophet who thinks the stones are the gods speaking with him?" Krysto teased and Stephanos paused again in his scrubbing. One eye squinted closed against the glare of the sun, he eyed his Order brother with an open mouthed smile.
“That’s not a prophet. That’s your lunatic father. I’m shocked you brought him up. How brave of you.” He hadn’t meant for the joke to come out quite that mean, but now that it had, he wasn’t going to take it back. The truth of the matter was he didn’t know anything about Krysto’s family, or if the other’s father was wholly sane or not, or even alive or not. Achilleas got on better with Krysto than Stephanos did. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t alright with each other, but he hadn’t taken the same steps towards a deeper friendship. Stephanos’s interests had been elsewhere as of late and Krysto had the audacity to bring it up.
"I heard what happened. What did you think the punishment would be?"
“I wasn’t thinking of what would happen because we weren’t going to get caught,” he moved the bristle brush away from Krysto, dunked it in the bucket, and started on the next stone. This was almost cathartic. Or had been, without Krysto prodding his temper on purpose. “I was thinking about her sitting on my cock and my hand on her tit. I did see them. They’re smaller than I thought they’d be,” he added, though it wasn’t necessary. “I liked them though.”
"I had to scrub this street at least twice when I was an initiate. Though my punishments were for fighting, not touching girls I shouldn't have been. Though, many have gotten away with worse. It's a shame you got caught, your highness."
“It is a shame,” Stephanos agreed, scrubbing hard at this new stone, as though he cared about doing a good job. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but he wasn’t interested in Krateros walking up, hands behind his back, making that ‘hmmm’ sound and then instructing him to do it all over again. That would be the worst. “I won’t get caught next time,” Stephanos decided out loud. And he definitely wouldn’t toy with that particular maid again. Stephanos wasn’t completely heartless. He knew that if they were caught a second time, even after he was a full fledged member of the Order, she’d lose her position entirely and risk starvation and he had no plans to do the honorable thing and marry a servant. It was best to leave her alone.
"So you aren't a prophet who thinks the stones are the gods speaking with him?" Krysto teased and Stephanos paused again in his scrubbing. One eye squinted closed against the glare of the sun, he eyed his Order brother with an open mouthed smile.
“That’s not a prophet. That’s your lunatic father. I’m shocked you brought him up. How brave of you.” He hadn’t meant for the joke to come out quite that mean, but now that it had, he wasn’t going to take it back. The truth of the matter was he didn’t know anything about Krysto’s family, or if the other’s father was wholly sane or not, or even alive or not. Achilleas got on better with Krysto than Stephanos did. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t alright with each other, but he hadn’t taken the same steps towards a deeper friendship. Stephanos’s interests had been elsewhere as of late and Krysto had the audacity to bring it up.
"I heard what happened. What did you think the punishment would be?"
“I wasn’t thinking of what would happen because we weren’t going to get caught,” he moved the bristle brush away from Krysto, dunked it in the bucket, and started on the next stone. This was almost cathartic. Or had been, without Krysto prodding his temper on purpose. “I was thinking about her sitting on my cock and my hand on her tit. I did see them. They’re smaller than I thought they’d be,” he added, though it wasn’t necessary. “I liked them though.”
"I had to scrub this street at least twice when I was an initiate. Though my punishments were for fighting, not touching girls I shouldn't have been. Though, many have gotten away with worse. It's a shame you got caught, your highness."
“It is a shame,” Stephanos agreed, scrubbing hard at this new stone, as though he cared about doing a good job. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but he wasn’t interested in Krateros walking up, hands behind his back, making that ‘hmmm’ sound and then instructing him to do it all over again. That would be the worst. “I won’t get caught next time,” Stephanos decided out loud. And he definitely wouldn’t toy with that particular maid again. Stephanos wasn’t completely heartless. He knew that if they were caught a second time, even after he was a full fledged member of the Order, she’d lose her position entirely and risk starvation and he had no plans to do the honorable thing and marry a servant. It was best to leave her alone.
The laugh that bubbled from Krysto's throat was warm and amused. Honestly, the prodding didn't bother him. He'd been told worse about his father, though Krysto had long assured himself that the man and his brothers were entirely normal. Intelligent, skilled, and wholly revered physicians. Scrubbing a hand back through his rather long mop of curls, the young Order man thought to pull the brown locks back away from his face. Then he did so, tying it all back into a tight bun.
"I assure you, your highness, you will not call my father such things when he or my brothers are tending to you on a killing field," Krysto said with an amused flicker of a smile. "Or myself, for that matter. The apple fell far from the tree, but not so far as to not learn anything from the dear physician," the man shrugged, pressing his own hands behind his back and eyeing the way that Stephanos scrubbed at the stones.
Krysto had to roll his eyes at the crass manner in which Stephanos spoke of the maid that he'd been caught with. "I swear, that is all you seem to think about," Krysto noted dryly, "Are there things more important to you than drinking and bedding woman, your highness, or does your personality end there?" There was part of him that knew that he could get away with speech such as this. For the moment at least. As far as the Order was concerned, both Stephanos and Achilleas were no better than servants. Their rank did not mean much when they were being forced to humble themselves for a future of glory.
Glancing back down the street, he made sure that the rest of the Order men were out of sight. "Admittedly, I find the rule rather cruel, though I do not partake myself. If you don't want to get caught next time, I'll help you, if only because you'll be insufferable for the next months if I don't," Krysto whispered at his best friend's cousin. "I know a few places that are not often frequented within the Order house," then he was giving Stephanos a bit of a wink. There was a slight rumble of his stomach and then Krysto was clearing his throat. "Are you hungry, your highness? I shall fetch you lunch if you don't mind my lingering company. Otherwise... have fun servicing your stones."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The laugh that bubbled from Krysto's throat was warm and amused. Honestly, the prodding didn't bother him. He'd been told worse about his father, though Krysto had long assured himself that the man and his brothers were entirely normal. Intelligent, skilled, and wholly revered physicians. Scrubbing a hand back through his rather long mop of curls, the young Order man thought to pull the brown locks back away from his face. Then he did so, tying it all back into a tight bun.
"I assure you, your highness, you will not call my father such things when he or my brothers are tending to you on a killing field," Krysto said with an amused flicker of a smile. "Or myself, for that matter. The apple fell far from the tree, but not so far as to not learn anything from the dear physician," the man shrugged, pressing his own hands behind his back and eyeing the way that Stephanos scrubbed at the stones.
Krysto had to roll his eyes at the crass manner in which Stephanos spoke of the maid that he'd been caught with. "I swear, that is all you seem to think about," Krysto noted dryly, "Are there things more important to you than drinking and bedding woman, your highness, or does your personality end there?" There was part of him that knew that he could get away with speech such as this. For the moment at least. As far as the Order was concerned, both Stephanos and Achilleas were no better than servants. Their rank did not mean much when they were being forced to humble themselves for a future of glory.
Glancing back down the street, he made sure that the rest of the Order men were out of sight. "Admittedly, I find the rule rather cruel, though I do not partake myself. If you don't want to get caught next time, I'll help you, if only because you'll be insufferable for the next months if I don't," Krysto whispered at his best friend's cousin. "I know a few places that are not often frequented within the Order house," then he was giving Stephanos a bit of a wink. There was a slight rumble of his stomach and then Krysto was clearing his throat. "Are you hungry, your highness? I shall fetch you lunch if you don't mind my lingering company. Otherwise... have fun servicing your stones."
The laugh that bubbled from Krysto's throat was warm and amused. Honestly, the prodding didn't bother him. He'd been told worse about his father, though Krysto had long assured himself that the man and his brothers were entirely normal. Intelligent, skilled, and wholly revered physicians. Scrubbing a hand back through his rather long mop of curls, the young Order man thought to pull the brown locks back away from his face. Then he did so, tying it all back into a tight bun.
"I assure you, your highness, you will not call my father such things when he or my brothers are tending to you on a killing field," Krysto said with an amused flicker of a smile. "Or myself, for that matter. The apple fell far from the tree, but not so far as to not learn anything from the dear physician," the man shrugged, pressing his own hands behind his back and eyeing the way that Stephanos scrubbed at the stones.
Krysto had to roll his eyes at the crass manner in which Stephanos spoke of the maid that he'd been caught with. "I swear, that is all you seem to think about," Krysto noted dryly, "Are there things more important to you than drinking and bedding woman, your highness, or does your personality end there?" There was part of him that knew that he could get away with speech such as this. For the moment at least. As far as the Order was concerned, both Stephanos and Achilleas were no better than servants. Their rank did not mean much when they were being forced to humble themselves for a future of glory.
Glancing back down the street, he made sure that the rest of the Order men were out of sight. "Admittedly, I find the rule rather cruel, though I do not partake myself. If you don't want to get caught next time, I'll help you, if only because you'll be insufferable for the next months if I don't," Krysto whispered at his best friend's cousin. "I know a few places that are not often frequented within the Order house," then he was giving Stephanos a bit of a wink. There was a slight rumble of his stomach and then Krysto was clearing his throat. "Are you hungry, your highness? I shall fetch you lunch if you don't mind my lingering company. Otherwise... have fun servicing your stones."
Stephanos completely ignored Krysto’s brag about his father, or the not at all subtle brag that Krysto was somehow an amazing physician too. He didn’t care about Krysto’s healing abilities, especially as it had no bearing on this conversation. What he did care about was Krysto being in the way of the next stone and Stephanos splashed water on Krysto’s foot to get him to move.
"I swear, that is all you seem to think about. Are there things more important to you than drinking and bedding woman, your highness, or does your personality end there?" Krysto asked and Stephanos didn’t bother to look at him this time. He understood what Krysto was doing. It was another of the Order members, who were mostly men of common stock, getting to have their go at a royal. Luckily for Krysto, Stephanos was not cruel by nature and took all of this in good stride. He didn’t like it, and wasn’t going to pretend that he was pleased about being spoken to in this way, but he wouldn’t hold it against Krysto. The man was no different than anyone else, it appeared.
“It would appear not,” he said between tight lips. “Move.” Stephanos was perfectly aware what people assumed about him and he didn’t care enough to alter their opinion. If Krysto wanted to see him as nothing more than a carouser, that was his choice. The prince was not ashamed to be a great lover of women; practically worshipping them. They were soft and gorgeous and better company than the man attempting to rouse his temper right now.
"Admittedly, I find the rule rather cruel, though I do not partake myself. If you don't want to get caught next time, I'll help you, if only because you'll be insufferable for the next months if I don't.” Krysto offered and that had Stephanos sit back on his knees and look Krysto full in the face. There was no smile this time and his oceanic blue eyes were flat, the corners of his mouth tight and pulled down.
“You’d do that,” he asked without inflection. “How kind.”
"I know a few places that are not often frequented within the Order house," Krysto went on.
Stephanos stared at him, sighed through his nose, and dropped back onto his hands and knees to continue scrubbing. It was amazing that Krysto assumed he needed help. The only idiot decision Stephanos had made in this whole affair was staying too long in the kitchen. The cook had been fully inebriated. They wouldn’t have been interrupted except that he’d misjudged the hour and had taken his time with the girl, rather than just satisfy himself and leave, which, ultimately, had left both of them unsatisfied. He didn’t need this common boy’s help getting girls or figuring out dark corners in which to take said girls. However, he wasn’t about to bandy about semantics with Krysto on it. Gods knew this boy could argue with a brick wall when he took it into his head to do so.
"Are you hungry, your highness? I shall fetch you lunch if you don't mind my lingering company. Otherwise... have fun servicing your stones." It was an olive branch and Stephanos closed his eyes, not at all wanting to accept it. However, he could just hear Achilleas now.
‘Why were you mean to Krysto? He was trying to help’ or even, ‘He’s a peasant. Let him have his say and be done with it.’
“Fine,” Stephanos’s voice was still flat and without his usual good humor. “Bring food.” Otherwise he wasn’t going to risk the leader of the Order coming out to ask him why he was eating in the Order and not working.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Stephanos completely ignored Krysto’s brag about his father, or the not at all subtle brag that Krysto was somehow an amazing physician too. He didn’t care about Krysto’s healing abilities, especially as it had no bearing on this conversation. What he did care about was Krysto being in the way of the next stone and Stephanos splashed water on Krysto’s foot to get him to move.
"I swear, that is all you seem to think about. Are there things more important to you than drinking and bedding woman, your highness, or does your personality end there?" Krysto asked and Stephanos didn’t bother to look at him this time. He understood what Krysto was doing. It was another of the Order members, who were mostly men of common stock, getting to have their go at a royal. Luckily for Krysto, Stephanos was not cruel by nature and took all of this in good stride. He didn’t like it, and wasn’t going to pretend that he was pleased about being spoken to in this way, but he wouldn’t hold it against Krysto. The man was no different than anyone else, it appeared.
“It would appear not,” he said between tight lips. “Move.” Stephanos was perfectly aware what people assumed about him and he didn’t care enough to alter their opinion. If Krysto wanted to see him as nothing more than a carouser, that was his choice. The prince was not ashamed to be a great lover of women; practically worshipping them. They were soft and gorgeous and better company than the man attempting to rouse his temper right now.
"Admittedly, I find the rule rather cruel, though I do not partake myself. If you don't want to get caught next time, I'll help you, if only because you'll be insufferable for the next months if I don't.” Krysto offered and that had Stephanos sit back on his knees and look Krysto full in the face. There was no smile this time and his oceanic blue eyes were flat, the corners of his mouth tight and pulled down.
“You’d do that,” he asked without inflection. “How kind.”
"I know a few places that are not often frequented within the Order house," Krysto went on.
Stephanos stared at him, sighed through his nose, and dropped back onto his hands and knees to continue scrubbing. It was amazing that Krysto assumed he needed help. The only idiot decision Stephanos had made in this whole affair was staying too long in the kitchen. The cook had been fully inebriated. They wouldn’t have been interrupted except that he’d misjudged the hour and had taken his time with the girl, rather than just satisfy himself and leave, which, ultimately, had left both of them unsatisfied. He didn’t need this common boy’s help getting girls or figuring out dark corners in which to take said girls. However, he wasn’t about to bandy about semantics with Krysto on it. Gods knew this boy could argue with a brick wall when he took it into his head to do so.
"Are you hungry, your highness? I shall fetch you lunch if you don't mind my lingering company. Otherwise... have fun servicing your stones." It was an olive branch and Stephanos closed his eyes, not at all wanting to accept it. However, he could just hear Achilleas now.
‘Why were you mean to Krysto? He was trying to help’ or even, ‘He’s a peasant. Let him have his say and be done with it.’
“Fine,” Stephanos’s voice was still flat and without his usual good humor. “Bring food.” Otherwise he wasn’t going to risk the leader of the Order coming out to ask him why he was eating in the Order and not working.
Stephanos completely ignored Krysto’s brag about his father, or the not at all subtle brag that Krysto was somehow an amazing physician too. He didn’t care about Krysto’s healing abilities, especially as it had no bearing on this conversation. What he did care about was Krysto being in the way of the next stone and Stephanos splashed water on Krysto’s foot to get him to move.
"I swear, that is all you seem to think about. Are there things more important to you than drinking and bedding woman, your highness, or does your personality end there?" Krysto asked and Stephanos didn’t bother to look at him this time. He understood what Krysto was doing. It was another of the Order members, who were mostly men of common stock, getting to have their go at a royal. Luckily for Krysto, Stephanos was not cruel by nature and took all of this in good stride. He didn’t like it, and wasn’t going to pretend that he was pleased about being spoken to in this way, but he wouldn’t hold it against Krysto. The man was no different than anyone else, it appeared.
“It would appear not,” he said between tight lips. “Move.” Stephanos was perfectly aware what people assumed about him and he didn’t care enough to alter their opinion. If Krysto wanted to see him as nothing more than a carouser, that was his choice. The prince was not ashamed to be a great lover of women; practically worshipping them. They were soft and gorgeous and better company than the man attempting to rouse his temper right now.
"Admittedly, I find the rule rather cruel, though I do not partake myself. If you don't want to get caught next time, I'll help you, if only because you'll be insufferable for the next months if I don't.” Krysto offered and that had Stephanos sit back on his knees and look Krysto full in the face. There was no smile this time and his oceanic blue eyes were flat, the corners of his mouth tight and pulled down.
“You’d do that,” he asked without inflection. “How kind.”
"I know a few places that are not often frequented within the Order house," Krysto went on.
Stephanos stared at him, sighed through his nose, and dropped back onto his hands and knees to continue scrubbing. It was amazing that Krysto assumed he needed help. The only idiot decision Stephanos had made in this whole affair was staying too long in the kitchen. The cook had been fully inebriated. They wouldn’t have been interrupted except that he’d misjudged the hour and had taken his time with the girl, rather than just satisfy himself and leave, which, ultimately, had left both of them unsatisfied. He didn’t need this common boy’s help getting girls or figuring out dark corners in which to take said girls. However, he wasn’t about to bandy about semantics with Krysto on it. Gods knew this boy could argue with a brick wall when he took it into his head to do so.
"Are you hungry, your highness? I shall fetch you lunch if you don't mind my lingering company. Otherwise... have fun servicing your stones." It was an olive branch and Stephanos closed his eyes, not at all wanting to accept it. However, he could just hear Achilleas now.
‘Why were you mean to Krysto? He was trying to help’ or even, ‘He’s a peasant. Let him have his say and be done with it.’
“Fine,” Stephanos’s voice was still flat and without his usual good humor. “Bring food.” Otherwise he wasn’t going to risk the leader of the Order coming out to ask him why he was eating in the Order and not working.
The splash of water on his boot did not bother him. Not in the slightest. In fact, he didn't exactly move, either, lifting an eyebrow at the change in temperament of the young prince. Clearly, Krysto had struck a nerve without really trying to. Honestly, he'd just wanted to poke the prince, but not to the point that the man clammed up so much that he would hardly speak at all. Why were nobles and royals so damn stuffy all the time?
Irritable, the teenager had to grit his teeth together, wondering for the millionth time if he shouldn't have just stayed at home learning healing rather than subjecting himself to moody courtiers who were seemingly to sensitive to banter back and forth. It was one of the very few times in life where he doubted his place in this world he'd found himself in. Staring at Stephanos, Krysto said absolutely nothing else to respond to anything that Stephanos said, choosing not to stroke the temper or ego of the prince any further.
Instead, he turned on a sharp heel and headed back for the Order House without saying anything, nor confirmation that he was bringing any food at all. He strode up the steps and right into the kitchens, grabbing some food for both himself and the prince that was out scrubbing the stones a few streets over. He grabbed a skin of water to go with it. Krysto blatantly ignored a few of the older order members who were gossiping about Prince Stephanos, not truly wanting to join into that type of conversation to begin with. He stuffed a few berries in his mouth to avoid having to say anything.
Awkward and feeling guilty for prodding Stephanos in the wrong way, he separated himself from that conversation, choosing to say nothing at all as he ghosted back out the front doors and through the streets of Vasiliadon. He nodded to a few people as he navigated the stone streets before once more spotting the prince scrubbing silently at his stones. He almost paused, but there was no going back now.
"I like to think that I remember some of your favorite foods," Krysto said lightly, leaning down and offering Stephanos the wrapped parcel of food. Then he offered the prince the water he had also carted with him, willing to hold it until the man took it from him while he stared down the length of the street. There were people milling about, some going to and fro, but Krysto wasn't actually focused on watching them.
"I apologize for being a dick," the young man finally said after a few long moments. "Sometimes I forget that I can't joke with other people the way that I do with Achilleas." He made a face that dispalyed some of his silent discomfort, but didn't say anything else after that.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The splash of water on his boot did not bother him. Not in the slightest. In fact, he didn't exactly move, either, lifting an eyebrow at the change in temperament of the young prince. Clearly, Krysto had struck a nerve without really trying to. Honestly, he'd just wanted to poke the prince, but not to the point that the man clammed up so much that he would hardly speak at all. Why were nobles and royals so damn stuffy all the time?
Irritable, the teenager had to grit his teeth together, wondering for the millionth time if he shouldn't have just stayed at home learning healing rather than subjecting himself to moody courtiers who were seemingly to sensitive to banter back and forth. It was one of the very few times in life where he doubted his place in this world he'd found himself in. Staring at Stephanos, Krysto said absolutely nothing else to respond to anything that Stephanos said, choosing not to stroke the temper or ego of the prince any further.
Instead, he turned on a sharp heel and headed back for the Order House without saying anything, nor confirmation that he was bringing any food at all. He strode up the steps and right into the kitchens, grabbing some food for both himself and the prince that was out scrubbing the stones a few streets over. He grabbed a skin of water to go with it. Krysto blatantly ignored a few of the older order members who were gossiping about Prince Stephanos, not truly wanting to join into that type of conversation to begin with. He stuffed a few berries in his mouth to avoid having to say anything.
Awkward and feeling guilty for prodding Stephanos in the wrong way, he separated himself from that conversation, choosing to say nothing at all as he ghosted back out the front doors and through the streets of Vasiliadon. He nodded to a few people as he navigated the stone streets before once more spotting the prince scrubbing silently at his stones. He almost paused, but there was no going back now.
"I like to think that I remember some of your favorite foods," Krysto said lightly, leaning down and offering Stephanos the wrapped parcel of food. Then he offered the prince the water he had also carted with him, willing to hold it until the man took it from him while he stared down the length of the street. There were people milling about, some going to and fro, but Krysto wasn't actually focused on watching them.
"I apologize for being a dick," the young man finally said after a few long moments. "Sometimes I forget that I can't joke with other people the way that I do with Achilleas." He made a face that dispalyed some of his silent discomfort, but didn't say anything else after that.
The splash of water on his boot did not bother him. Not in the slightest. In fact, he didn't exactly move, either, lifting an eyebrow at the change in temperament of the young prince. Clearly, Krysto had struck a nerve without really trying to. Honestly, he'd just wanted to poke the prince, but not to the point that the man clammed up so much that he would hardly speak at all. Why were nobles and royals so damn stuffy all the time?
Irritable, the teenager had to grit his teeth together, wondering for the millionth time if he shouldn't have just stayed at home learning healing rather than subjecting himself to moody courtiers who were seemingly to sensitive to banter back and forth. It was one of the very few times in life where he doubted his place in this world he'd found himself in. Staring at Stephanos, Krysto said absolutely nothing else to respond to anything that Stephanos said, choosing not to stroke the temper or ego of the prince any further.
Instead, he turned on a sharp heel and headed back for the Order House without saying anything, nor confirmation that he was bringing any food at all. He strode up the steps and right into the kitchens, grabbing some food for both himself and the prince that was out scrubbing the stones a few streets over. He grabbed a skin of water to go with it. Krysto blatantly ignored a few of the older order members who were gossiping about Prince Stephanos, not truly wanting to join into that type of conversation to begin with. He stuffed a few berries in his mouth to avoid having to say anything.
Awkward and feeling guilty for prodding Stephanos in the wrong way, he separated himself from that conversation, choosing to say nothing at all as he ghosted back out the front doors and through the streets of Vasiliadon. He nodded to a few people as he navigated the stone streets before once more spotting the prince scrubbing silently at his stones. He almost paused, but there was no going back now.
"I like to think that I remember some of your favorite foods," Krysto said lightly, leaning down and offering Stephanos the wrapped parcel of food. Then he offered the prince the water he had also carted with him, willing to hold it until the man took it from him while he stared down the length of the street. There were people milling about, some going to and fro, but Krysto wasn't actually focused on watching them.
"I apologize for being a dick," the young man finally said after a few long moments. "Sometimes I forget that I can't joke with other people the way that I do with Achilleas." He made a face that dispalyed some of his silent discomfort, but didn't say anything else after that.
When Krysto left, Stephanos stopped scrubbing, watching him go for a few seconds before returning to his work. This was so mind numbing that soon, all his irritation was washed away and he was back to thinking about nothing in particular as he moved slowly across the stones, then up the street. He’d nearly forgotten about Krysto coming back until the man reappeared, this time with a plate in his hand. Stephanos sat back on his knees, wiping his nose with the back of the hand that still held the dripping scrub brush and glanced up at Krysto.
"I like to think that I remember some of your favorite foods," the other boy said as he leaned down to hand Stephaons the plate. Stephanos put him off long enough to twist and toss the scrub brush in the bucket. It landed with a dull plunk and sloshed out black water. Stephanos made a mental note to go change out the water. Again.
Scooting to a dry spot on the street, he sat against one of the buildings and watched a few people pass them. They avoided the wet stones but walked directly on the clean, dry ones and Stephanos privately thought to himself that if Krateros made him keep the street nice and dirt free, he’d revolt and go back to the palati. It didn’t matter to him that his father would immediately eject him on his ass and send him back, but the point would be made.
“Thanks,” the prince said belatedly as he picked over the plate. There were some of his favorites and some that he actually despised, but if Krysto knew all his likes and dislikes, he’d have been shocked. At this point in his Order training, Stephanos just shoveled into his mouth whatever food that the cook made. He’d had a rude shock one morning when he pointed out to the cook that neither he, nor his cousin, had liked the sheep organs that had been served the night before. That had gone over about as well as a boulder catapulted into the center of the city. The cook verbally flayed him alive. The lack of care that he was royalty around here was annoying.
"I apologize for being a dick," Krysto broke into his thoughts and Stephanos glanced over at him, mouth full of bread roll. "Sometimes I forget that I can't joke with other people the way that I do with Achilleas."
“You can’t joke with Achilleas,” Stephanos’s voice was entirely muffled by his food. “He can’t take any joke.” Swallowing, he gestured in the air with his bread roll. “He shoved horse shit on me because I took a nap. That kid is so wound up…” shaking his head, he then refocused on inhaling his food, lest Krateros come back out and tell him to quit eating and get back to work.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
When Krysto left, Stephanos stopped scrubbing, watching him go for a few seconds before returning to his work. This was so mind numbing that soon, all his irritation was washed away and he was back to thinking about nothing in particular as he moved slowly across the stones, then up the street. He’d nearly forgotten about Krysto coming back until the man reappeared, this time with a plate in his hand. Stephanos sat back on his knees, wiping his nose with the back of the hand that still held the dripping scrub brush and glanced up at Krysto.
"I like to think that I remember some of your favorite foods," the other boy said as he leaned down to hand Stephaons the plate. Stephanos put him off long enough to twist and toss the scrub brush in the bucket. It landed with a dull plunk and sloshed out black water. Stephanos made a mental note to go change out the water. Again.
Scooting to a dry spot on the street, he sat against one of the buildings and watched a few people pass them. They avoided the wet stones but walked directly on the clean, dry ones and Stephanos privately thought to himself that if Krateros made him keep the street nice and dirt free, he’d revolt and go back to the palati. It didn’t matter to him that his father would immediately eject him on his ass and send him back, but the point would be made.
“Thanks,” the prince said belatedly as he picked over the plate. There were some of his favorites and some that he actually despised, but if Krysto knew all his likes and dislikes, he’d have been shocked. At this point in his Order training, Stephanos just shoveled into his mouth whatever food that the cook made. He’d had a rude shock one morning when he pointed out to the cook that neither he, nor his cousin, had liked the sheep organs that had been served the night before. That had gone over about as well as a boulder catapulted into the center of the city. The cook verbally flayed him alive. The lack of care that he was royalty around here was annoying.
"I apologize for being a dick," Krysto broke into his thoughts and Stephanos glanced over at him, mouth full of bread roll. "Sometimes I forget that I can't joke with other people the way that I do with Achilleas."
“You can’t joke with Achilleas,” Stephanos’s voice was entirely muffled by his food. “He can’t take any joke.” Swallowing, he gestured in the air with his bread roll. “He shoved horse shit on me because I took a nap. That kid is so wound up…” shaking his head, he then refocused on inhaling his food, lest Krateros come back out and tell him to quit eating and get back to work.
When Krysto left, Stephanos stopped scrubbing, watching him go for a few seconds before returning to his work. This was so mind numbing that soon, all his irritation was washed away and he was back to thinking about nothing in particular as he moved slowly across the stones, then up the street. He’d nearly forgotten about Krysto coming back until the man reappeared, this time with a plate in his hand. Stephanos sat back on his knees, wiping his nose with the back of the hand that still held the dripping scrub brush and glanced up at Krysto.
"I like to think that I remember some of your favorite foods," the other boy said as he leaned down to hand Stephaons the plate. Stephanos put him off long enough to twist and toss the scrub brush in the bucket. It landed with a dull plunk and sloshed out black water. Stephanos made a mental note to go change out the water. Again.
Scooting to a dry spot on the street, he sat against one of the buildings and watched a few people pass them. They avoided the wet stones but walked directly on the clean, dry ones and Stephanos privately thought to himself that if Krateros made him keep the street nice and dirt free, he’d revolt and go back to the palati. It didn’t matter to him that his father would immediately eject him on his ass and send him back, but the point would be made.
“Thanks,” the prince said belatedly as he picked over the plate. There were some of his favorites and some that he actually despised, but if Krysto knew all his likes and dislikes, he’d have been shocked. At this point in his Order training, Stephanos just shoveled into his mouth whatever food that the cook made. He’d had a rude shock one morning when he pointed out to the cook that neither he, nor his cousin, had liked the sheep organs that had been served the night before. That had gone over about as well as a boulder catapulted into the center of the city. The cook verbally flayed him alive. The lack of care that he was royalty around here was annoying.
"I apologize for being a dick," Krysto broke into his thoughts and Stephanos glanced over at him, mouth full of bread roll. "Sometimes I forget that I can't joke with other people the way that I do with Achilleas."
“You can’t joke with Achilleas,” Stephanos’s voice was entirely muffled by his food. “He can’t take any joke.” Swallowing, he gestured in the air with his bread roll. “He shoved horse shit on me because I took a nap. That kid is so wound up…” shaking his head, he then refocused on inhaling his food, lest Krateros come back out and tell him to quit eating and get back to work.
Krysto found himself settled down beside Stephanos, holding his own food in his lap. He chewed on a piece of bread rather absently, watching the people milling up and down the street. He remembered doing this same chore so vividly, it was like it had been yesterday. It may as well have been, honestly. He didn't always have the greatest temper, but he was young and he was prone to his own moments of anger.
Punching that idiot boy in the face had been worth it in the end. Even with all of the trouble it had brought him when he'd taken his turn scrubbing these stones, it had been so very worth it. Because the other boy hadn't lasted, especially when he was forced to do similar chores. Selfishly, Krysto had been rather smug when the kid had been kicked from the Order. But he still wouldn't have wished this punishment on anyone. This was a task that was grueling on the best of days. By the end of the day, your knees were often raw and your skin peeling. The water did awful things to your hands despite physicians insisting water was a great cure.
Great cure his ass. Water could shred your hands just as badly as stone. Especially when using that harsh brush to scrub at the carefully placed stones of the street.
He was stirred out of his thoughts by Stephanos talking, the man glancing toward the prince. "Sometimes you have to be delicate with him... plus... I don't think I've ever hesitated to dish it back to him," Krysto chuckled, popping an olive into his mouth and chewing carefully. Then Krysto paused, still watching Stephanos, "Did he really? That sounds exactly like him," Krysto laughed then, shaking his head. "Did you throw it back? How angry was he? But... whyw as he upset that you took a nap to begin with?" he questioned then, more curious than anything.
Picking at his plate when he got to the food he wasn't as much of a fan of, he glanced ahead again. "But I am being honest. I realize that what I was teasing you about was more me being a haughty asshole than anything else. Not my shining moment," Krysto said honestly, reaching down to pick at a thread on his tunic. If he pulled at it too much, he'd need to fund a new shirt, and while this wasn't his only one, it certainly wasn't like he had very many to spare.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Krysto found himself settled down beside Stephanos, holding his own food in his lap. He chewed on a piece of bread rather absently, watching the people milling up and down the street. He remembered doing this same chore so vividly, it was like it had been yesterday. It may as well have been, honestly. He didn't always have the greatest temper, but he was young and he was prone to his own moments of anger.
Punching that idiot boy in the face had been worth it in the end. Even with all of the trouble it had brought him when he'd taken his turn scrubbing these stones, it had been so very worth it. Because the other boy hadn't lasted, especially when he was forced to do similar chores. Selfishly, Krysto had been rather smug when the kid had been kicked from the Order. But he still wouldn't have wished this punishment on anyone. This was a task that was grueling on the best of days. By the end of the day, your knees were often raw and your skin peeling. The water did awful things to your hands despite physicians insisting water was a great cure.
Great cure his ass. Water could shred your hands just as badly as stone. Especially when using that harsh brush to scrub at the carefully placed stones of the street.
He was stirred out of his thoughts by Stephanos talking, the man glancing toward the prince. "Sometimes you have to be delicate with him... plus... I don't think I've ever hesitated to dish it back to him," Krysto chuckled, popping an olive into his mouth and chewing carefully. Then Krysto paused, still watching Stephanos, "Did he really? That sounds exactly like him," Krysto laughed then, shaking his head. "Did you throw it back? How angry was he? But... whyw as he upset that you took a nap to begin with?" he questioned then, more curious than anything.
Picking at his plate when he got to the food he wasn't as much of a fan of, he glanced ahead again. "But I am being honest. I realize that what I was teasing you about was more me being a haughty asshole than anything else. Not my shining moment," Krysto said honestly, reaching down to pick at a thread on his tunic. If he pulled at it too much, he'd need to fund a new shirt, and while this wasn't his only one, it certainly wasn't like he had very many to spare.
Krysto found himself settled down beside Stephanos, holding his own food in his lap. He chewed on a piece of bread rather absently, watching the people milling up and down the street. He remembered doing this same chore so vividly, it was like it had been yesterday. It may as well have been, honestly. He didn't always have the greatest temper, but he was young and he was prone to his own moments of anger.
Punching that idiot boy in the face had been worth it in the end. Even with all of the trouble it had brought him when he'd taken his turn scrubbing these stones, it had been so very worth it. Because the other boy hadn't lasted, especially when he was forced to do similar chores. Selfishly, Krysto had been rather smug when the kid had been kicked from the Order. But he still wouldn't have wished this punishment on anyone. This was a task that was grueling on the best of days. By the end of the day, your knees were often raw and your skin peeling. The water did awful things to your hands despite physicians insisting water was a great cure.
Great cure his ass. Water could shred your hands just as badly as stone. Especially when using that harsh brush to scrub at the carefully placed stones of the street.
He was stirred out of his thoughts by Stephanos talking, the man glancing toward the prince. "Sometimes you have to be delicate with him... plus... I don't think I've ever hesitated to dish it back to him," Krysto chuckled, popping an olive into his mouth and chewing carefully. Then Krysto paused, still watching Stephanos, "Did he really? That sounds exactly like him," Krysto laughed then, shaking his head. "Did you throw it back? How angry was he? But... whyw as he upset that you took a nap to begin with?" he questioned then, more curious than anything.
Picking at his plate when he got to the food he wasn't as much of a fan of, he glanced ahead again. "But I am being honest. I realize that what I was teasing you about was more me being a haughty asshole than anything else. Not my shining moment," Krysto said honestly, reaching down to pick at a thread on his tunic. If he pulled at it too much, he'd need to fund a new shirt, and while this wasn't his only one, it certainly wasn't like he had very many to spare.
"Sometimes you have to be delicate with him... plus... I don't think I've ever hesitated to dish it back to him," Krysto bragged and Stephanos rolled his eyes.
“I’m shocked he hasn’t thoroughly trounced you.” No doubt it was due to Achilleas wanting to be kind. His cousin did tend to struggle between those two things; being kind to someone and doing what he was supposed to do, versus protecting his own reputation. If Krysto ever got between Achilleas and something Prince Irakles had told Achilleas to do, Stephanos was pretty sure that Achilleas wouldn’t hesitate to physically remove Krysto if that would help him curry favor with his father.
To Stephanos sharing Achilleas dropping manure on him, Krysto said, "Did he really? That sounds exactly like him. Did you throw it back? How angry was he? But... why was he upset that you took a nap to begin with?"
“My cousin doesn’t joke around like,” Stephanos pushed an olive into his mouth too. “You might be getting him confused with Emilios. Achilleas is as unfailingly polite as they come. Until you cross him. It was our first day training, and we were told to muck out the stalls, but the Order brother was rude, so I decided not to do it and left Achilleas to decide what to do.”
Stephanos paused to finish chewing and then continued. “But, Achilleas is so concerned with making this like, perfect impression, that he decides to just scoop stalls. He figured out I wasn’t doing it too and he thought it’d look bad on him, so he found me sleeping and put horse shit on me. So then I jumped him. And Krateros found us covered in urine and shit and we missed the noon meal and then Achilleas was really cranky.”
Krysto then apologized for taunting him and Stephanos nodded. “I forgive you. Just remember: in the unlikely event I’m ever king, I’ll execute you first.” He patted Krysto. “You’ll have that distinction, at least,” he teased.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
"Sometimes you have to be delicate with him... plus... I don't think I've ever hesitated to dish it back to him," Krysto bragged and Stephanos rolled his eyes.
“I’m shocked he hasn’t thoroughly trounced you.” No doubt it was due to Achilleas wanting to be kind. His cousin did tend to struggle between those two things; being kind to someone and doing what he was supposed to do, versus protecting his own reputation. If Krysto ever got between Achilleas and something Prince Irakles had told Achilleas to do, Stephanos was pretty sure that Achilleas wouldn’t hesitate to physically remove Krysto if that would help him curry favor with his father.
To Stephanos sharing Achilleas dropping manure on him, Krysto said, "Did he really? That sounds exactly like him. Did you throw it back? How angry was he? But... why was he upset that you took a nap to begin with?"
“My cousin doesn’t joke around like,” Stephanos pushed an olive into his mouth too. “You might be getting him confused with Emilios. Achilleas is as unfailingly polite as they come. Until you cross him. It was our first day training, and we were told to muck out the stalls, but the Order brother was rude, so I decided not to do it and left Achilleas to decide what to do.”
Stephanos paused to finish chewing and then continued. “But, Achilleas is so concerned with making this like, perfect impression, that he decides to just scoop stalls. He figured out I wasn’t doing it too and he thought it’d look bad on him, so he found me sleeping and put horse shit on me. So then I jumped him. And Krateros found us covered in urine and shit and we missed the noon meal and then Achilleas was really cranky.”
Krysto then apologized for taunting him and Stephanos nodded. “I forgive you. Just remember: in the unlikely event I’m ever king, I’ll execute you first.” He patted Krysto. “You’ll have that distinction, at least,” he teased.
"Sometimes you have to be delicate with him... plus... I don't think I've ever hesitated to dish it back to him," Krysto bragged and Stephanos rolled his eyes.
“I’m shocked he hasn’t thoroughly trounced you.” No doubt it was due to Achilleas wanting to be kind. His cousin did tend to struggle between those two things; being kind to someone and doing what he was supposed to do, versus protecting his own reputation. If Krysto ever got between Achilleas and something Prince Irakles had told Achilleas to do, Stephanos was pretty sure that Achilleas wouldn’t hesitate to physically remove Krysto if that would help him curry favor with his father.
To Stephanos sharing Achilleas dropping manure on him, Krysto said, "Did he really? That sounds exactly like him. Did you throw it back? How angry was he? But... why was he upset that you took a nap to begin with?"
“My cousin doesn’t joke around like,” Stephanos pushed an olive into his mouth too. “You might be getting him confused with Emilios. Achilleas is as unfailingly polite as they come. Until you cross him. It was our first day training, and we were told to muck out the stalls, but the Order brother was rude, so I decided not to do it and left Achilleas to decide what to do.”
Stephanos paused to finish chewing and then continued. “But, Achilleas is so concerned with making this like, perfect impression, that he decides to just scoop stalls. He figured out I wasn’t doing it too and he thought it’d look bad on him, so he found me sleeping and put horse shit on me. So then I jumped him. And Krateros found us covered in urine and shit and we missed the noon meal and then Achilleas was really cranky.”
Krysto then apologized for taunting him and Stephanos nodded. “I forgive you. Just remember: in the unlikely event I’m ever king, I’ll execute you first.” He patted Krysto. “You’ll have that distinction, at least,” he teased.
Krysto actually snorted a bit, shaking his head at Stephanos. "You say that like he hasn't trounced me once or twice," the boy pointed out. "Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Best friend he might be, but wholly innocent of fighting about things, we are not," Krysto declared, taking another huge bite of his bread after realizing that he was much hungrier than he had initially thought himself to be. Talking must have made him hungry. He wasn't usually such a chatterbox, but he was bored and very sure that Achilleas was busy with some task or another.
Stephanos should have been, but the prince didn't seem as concerned about it as he probably should have been.
"I wouldn't really know. I don't interact with Emilios all that much," Krysto said at first before listening to the rest of the story. Honestly, Stephanos and Achilleas seemed like the type to fight like brothers. That was rather amusing to Krysto, and he couldn't feel jealous about it. There was a time when he'd pushed one of his brothers into a river for being a dick. Did he feel bad about it now? Yeah. Then? Nope. He'd absolutely deserved it. They still brought it up from time to time, though the two brothers laughed about it more than they dwelled on how upset it made them.
Their mother was very much the type to preach peace and love.
"Well..." Krysto said lightly, "I guess I can level with both of you there. Theres a few Order members who still rub me the wrong way," he admitted, "But I probably would have done the same thing. Not to you, but probably my brothers. My sister got revenge like that on me once. Except she threw paint on me instead," he rolled his eyes. "I was finding paint for days," he grumbled, shaking his head. There was a pause and Krysto laughed again, "What did you guys have to do after they caught you? Another punishment?" he hummed, mostly curious how mean Krateros was to the nobles compared to the commoners. So far, it was equal. He'd seen some rather mean punishments for small things.
When Stephanos mentioned executing him if he ever became king, Krysto held up the water skin they were sharing. He took a swig of water, and then pretended to toast Stephanos. "To you never becoming king, then. I like my head on my shoulders."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Krysto actually snorted a bit, shaking his head at Stephanos. "You say that like he hasn't trounced me once or twice," the boy pointed out. "Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Best friend he might be, but wholly innocent of fighting about things, we are not," Krysto declared, taking another huge bite of his bread after realizing that he was much hungrier than he had initially thought himself to be. Talking must have made him hungry. He wasn't usually such a chatterbox, but he was bored and very sure that Achilleas was busy with some task or another.
Stephanos should have been, but the prince didn't seem as concerned about it as he probably should have been.
"I wouldn't really know. I don't interact with Emilios all that much," Krysto said at first before listening to the rest of the story. Honestly, Stephanos and Achilleas seemed like the type to fight like brothers. That was rather amusing to Krysto, and he couldn't feel jealous about it. There was a time when he'd pushed one of his brothers into a river for being a dick. Did he feel bad about it now? Yeah. Then? Nope. He'd absolutely deserved it. They still brought it up from time to time, though the two brothers laughed about it more than they dwelled on how upset it made them.
Their mother was very much the type to preach peace and love.
"Well..." Krysto said lightly, "I guess I can level with both of you there. Theres a few Order members who still rub me the wrong way," he admitted, "But I probably would have done the same thing. Not to you, but probably my brothers. My sister got revenge like that on me once. Except she threw paint on me instead," he rolled his eyes. "I was finding paint for days," he grumbled, shaking his head. There was a pause and Krysto laughed again, "What did you guys have to do after they caught you? Another punishment?" he hummed, mostly curious how mean Krateros was to the nobles compared to the commoners. So far, it was equal. He'd seen some rather mean punishments for small things.
When Stephanos mentioned executing him if he ever became king, Krysto held up the water skin they were sharing. He took a swig of water, and then pretended to toast Stephanos. "To you never becoming king, then. I like my head on my shoulders."
Krysto actually snorted a bit, shaking his head at Stephanos. "You say that like he hasn't trounced me once or twice," the boy pointed out. "Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Best friend he might be, but wholly innocent of fighting about things, we are not," Krysto declared, taking another huge bite of his bread after realizing that he was much hungrier than he had initially thought himself to be. Talking must have made him hungry. He wasn't usually such a chatterbox, but he was bored and very sure that Achilleas was busy with some task or another.
Stephanos should have been, but the prince didn't seem as concerned about it as he probably should have been.
"I wouldn't really know. I don't interact with Emilios all that much," Krysto said at first before listening to the rest of the story. Honestly, Stephanos and Achilleas seemed like the type to fight like brothers. That was rather amusing to Krysto, and he couldn't feel jealous about it. There was a time when he'd pushed one of his brothers into a river for being a dick. Did he feel bad about it now? Yeah. Then? Nope. He'd absolutely deserved it. They still brought it up from time to time, though the two brothers laughed about it more than they dwelled on how upset it made them.
Their mother was very much the type to preach peace and love.
"Well..." Krysto said lightly, "I guess I can level with both of you there. Theres a few Order members who still rub me the wrong way," he admitted, "But I probably would have done the same thing. Not to you, but probably my brothers. My sister got revenge like that on me once. Except she threw paint on me instead," he rolled his eyes. "I was finding paint for days," he grumbled, shaking his head. There was a pause and Krysto laughed again, "What did you guys have to do after they caught you? Another punishment?" he hummed, mostly curious how mean Krateros was to the nobles compared to the commoners. So far, it was equal. He'd seen some rather mean punishments for small things.
When Stephanos mentioned executing him if he ever became king, Krysto held up the water skin they were sharing. He took a swig of water, and then pretended to toast Stephanos. "To you never becoming king, then. I like my head on my shoulders."
At the term ‘best friend’, Stephanos resisted glancing over at Krysto. Best friend? Best friend? He set down his roll and firmly placed the plate on his lap. Wow. Achilleas had found a best friend. That was fine. Achilleas was only his cousin. Truthfully, if anyone should be Achilleas’s best friend, it should be Emilios. Brother status and all that. Or, maybe Zacharias. But it wasn’t like Achilleas and Zacharias were being pals all the time. The Crown Prince was usually with the king, doing court things. Best friend.
Stephanos picked back up the plate and shoveled food into his mouth. How did Achilleas determine what fit that status, exactly? Was it time? Because he, Stephanos, had devoted a lot of time. Was it interests? It wasn’t like he and his cousin didn’t have a shit ton in common. They totally did. Like brothers, really. They’d gone through initiations together. They’d practically had to share birthdays! Sometimes the celebrations were jointly shared, if it was an off year and some festival fell on one or the other’s day. He glared down at his place and then entirely set it aside, crossing his arms.
Maybe he’d start charioteering more with Zacharias. His brother was constantly begging him. Stephanos just didn’t do it every day because he was soundly beaten, every single time, but he was hardly alone. There wasn’t a single person alive who could beat his brother in a chariot race. Emilios was only fourteen, and perhaps Stephanos would have to foster some sort of best friend status there, when Emilios was older and more interesting. Wow. It was nice to know where he stood on his cousin’s list of priorities.
"I wouldn't really know. I don't interact with Emilios all that much," Krysto said and Stephanos blinked.
“What? Oh.” Then, because it was reflex, “Lord Emilios,” he corrected. His younger cousin might only be 14, but he was a 14 year old lord and Krysto was the son of a butcher. Or was it a farmer? No. Philosopher? Something with an fffffff sound.
"What did you guys have to do after they caught you? Another punishment?"
“Um…” Stephanos tried to come back around from his highly offended thoughts. “We had to bathe and then wrestle. I don’t know. It was a bad day. I try not to dwell on it.”
And when Krysto asked about his wish to be king, Stephanos jerked his head hard from side to side. “Absolutely not, no. That’ll be for my brother, and then my nephew, and I’ll be left entirely out of it.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “No, I’m going to make a military career, like my uncle. My aim is to be top general once he passes.” Normally he spoke far more disrespectfully of his uncle, but Krysto wasn’t family and he didn’t want the house to appear weak from inner strife. Aside from that, it wasn’t until a few months ago that he’d had extreme hero worship for Irakles. That soured quickly. Irakles had been fairly blatant in his dislike and disapproval of his nephew. Stephanos didn’t take kindly to that and was fostering quite the impressive grudge.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
At the term ‘best friend’, Stephanos resisted glancing over at Krysto. Best friend? Best friend? He set down his roll and firmly placed the plate on his lap. Wow. Achilleas had found a best friend. That was fine. Achilleas was only his cousin. Truthfully, if anyone should be Achilleas’s best friend, it should be Emilios. Brother status and all that. Or, maybe Zacharias. But it wasn’t like Achilleas and Zacharias were being pals all the time. The Crown Prince was usually with the king, doing court things. Best friend.
Stephanos picked back up the plate and shoveled food into his mouth. How did Achilleas determine what fit that status, exactly? Was it time? Because he, Stephanos, had devoted a lot of time. Was it interests? It wasn’t like he and his cousin didn’t have a shit ton in common. They totally did. Like brothers, really. They’d gone through initiations together. They’d practically had to share birthdays! Sometimes the celebrations were jointly shared, if it was an off year and some festival fell on one or the other’s day. He glared down at his place and then entirely set it aside, crossing his arms.
Maybe he’d start charioteering more with Zacharias. His brother was constantly begging him. Stephanos just didn’t do it every day because he was soundly beaten, every single time, but he was hardly alone. There wasn’t a single person alive who could beat his brother in a chariot race. Emilios was only fourteen, and perhaps Stephanos would have to foster some sort of best friend status there, when Emilios was older and more interesting. Wow. It was nice to know where he stood on his cousin’s list of priorities.
"I wouldn't really know. I don't interact with Emilios all that much," Krysto said and Stephanos blinked.
“What? Oh.” Then, because it was reflex, “Lord Emilios,” he corrected. His younger cousin might only be 14, but he was a 14 year old lord and Krysto was the son of a butcher. Or was it a farmer? No. Philosopher? Something with an fffffff sound.
"What did you guys have to do after they caught you? Another punishment?"
“Um…” Stephanos tried to come back around from his highly offended thoughts. “We had to bathe and then wrestle. I don’t know. It was a bad day. I try not to dwell on it.”
And when Krysto asked about his wish to be king, Stephanos jerked his head hard from side to side. “Absolutely not, no. That’ll be for my brother, and then my nephew, and I’ll be left entirely out of it.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “No, I’m going to make a military career, like my uncle. My aim is to be top general once he passes.” Normally he spoke far more disrespectfully of his uncle, but Krysto wasn’t family and he didn’t want the house to appear weak from inner strife. Aside from that, it wasn’t until a few months ago that he’d had extreme hero worship for Irakles. That soured quickly. Irakles had been fairly blatant in his dislike and disapproval of his nephew. Stephanos didn’t take kindly to that and was fostering quite the impressive grudge.
At the term ‘best friend’, Stephanos resisted glancing over at Krysto. Best friend? Best friend? He set down his roll and firmly placed the plate on his lap. Wow. Achilleas had found a best friend. That was fine. Achilleas was only his cousin. Truthfully, if anyone should be Achilleas’s best friend, it should be Emilios. Brother status and all that. Or, maybe Zacharias. But it wasn’t like Achilleas and Zacharias were being pals all the time. The Crown Prince was usually with the king, doing court things. Best friend.
Stephanos picked back up the plate and shoveled food into his mouth. How did Achilleas determine what fit that status, exactly? Was it time? Because he, Stephanos, had devoted a lot of time. Was it interests? It wasn’t like he and his cousin didn’t have a shit ton in common. They totally did. Like brothers, really. They’d gone through initiations together. They’d practically had to share birthdays! Sometimes the celebrations were jointly shared, if it was an off year and some festival fell on one or the other’s day. He glared down at his place and then entirely set it aside, crossing his arms.
Maybe he’d start charioteering more with Zacharias. His brother was constantly begging him. Stephanos just didn’t do it every day because he was soundly beaten, every single time, but he was hardly alone. There wasn’t a single person alive who could beat his brother in a chariot race. Emilios was only fourteen, and perhaps Stephanos would have to foster some sort of best friend status there, when Emilios was older and more interesting. Wow. It was nice to know where he stood on his cousin’s list of priorities.
"I wouldn't really know. I don't interact with Emilios all that much," Krysto said and Stephanos blinked.
“What? Oh.” Then, because it was reflex, “Lord Emilios,” he corrected. His younger cousin might only be 14, but he was a 14 year old lord and Krysto was the son of a butcher. Or was it a farmer? No. Philosopher? Something with an fffffff sound.
"What did you guys have to do after they caught you? Another punishment?"
“Um…” Stephanos tried to come back around from his highly offended thoughts. “We had to bathe and then wrestle. I don’t know. It was a bad day. I try not to dwell on it.”
And when Krysto asked about his wish to be king, Stephanos jerked his head hard from side to side. “Absolutely not, no. That’ll be for my brother, and then my nephew, and I’ll be left entirely out of it.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “No, I’m going to make a military career, like my uncle. My aim is to be top general once he passes.” Normally he spoke far more disrespectfully of his uncle, but Krysto wasn’t family and he didn’t want the house to appear weak from inner strife. Aside from that, it wasn’t until a few months ago that he’d had extreme hero worship for Irakles. That soured quickly. Irakles had been fairly blatant in his dislike and disapproval of his nephew. Stephanos didn’t take kindly to that and was fostering quite the impressive grudge.
Krysto did notice the way that Stephanos stopped eating. Multiple times. Hoenstly, it confused the teenager, his brows furrowed at the weird reaction to whatever it was that Krysto had said to offend the prince... yet again. Already, he was running through his thoughts, the things he had alread said, wondering what it had been to make the prince react in such a manner. Half the time when Krysto saw Stephanos eat, he really didn't stop for anything.
This was... awkward. What had he said? Or was Stephanos always this strange? Had Krysto just never noticed that the prince was straight up weird, or had the young order member said something to truly offend him? He seemed to have, because Prince Stephanos was rather unfocused, even when Krysto spoke again.
If it weren't for the way that Prince Stephanos had corrected Krysto on Emilios' title, Krysto would have thought that he might have broken the prince or something. Maybe he had? If he poked him, would he still be human? He resisted the urge, finding that he didn't want to be punched more than he wanted to know if the Prince was actually okay. Whatever it was that was suddenly making him weird, he clearly wasn't going to say it out loud and Krysto wasn't going to push for an answer. It wasn't really his business.
Krysto very much wanted to ask how they were made to wrestle, but he kept that amusing thought to himself, wondering why it was that his mind was going in each and every direction he didn't want it to. Clearing his throat, he took one final bite of his food before setting his plate aside and glancing back to the stone street. "That's an interesting plan," Krysto finally murmured when Stephanos expressed his want to become the top general once his uncle died. He wondered absently if Stephanos just thought he couldn't beat his uncle or if he was just going to lay in wait to take the title until the man kicked it.
Krysto himself wasn't exactly fond of Prince Irakles. Something about him always made him nervous. Honestly, he was just intimidating, and Krysto wasn't one to balk from intimidation, but he always found himself unsure of how to interact with the older prince. It was really strange when your best friend was the son of a prince.
"I'm sure we are bound to go to war some day," Krysto said lightly, even though he wasn't enlisted in the Taengean military anymore. He would enlist again, however, if the Kingdom ever went to war.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Krysto did notice the way that Stephanos stopped eating. Multiple times. Hoenstly, it confused the teenager, his brows furrowed at the weird reaction to whatever it was that Krysto had said to offend the prince... yet again. Already, he was running through his thoughts, the things he had alread said, wondering what it had been to make the prince react in such a manner. Half the time when Krysto saw Stephanos eat, he really didn't stop for anything.
This was... awkward. What had he said? Or was Stephanos always this strange? Had Krysto just never noticed that the prince was straight up weird, or had the young order member said something to truly offend him? He seemed to have, because Prince Stephanos was rather unfocused, even when Krysto spoke again.
If it weren't for the way that Prince Stephanos had corrected Krysto on Emilios' title, Krysto would have thought that he might have broken the prince or something. Maybe he had? If he poked him, would he still be human? He resisted the urge, finding that he didn't want to be punched more than he wanted to know if the Prince was actually okay. Whatever it was that was suddenly making him weird, he clearly wasn't going to say it out loud and Krysto wasn't going to push for an answer. It wasn't really his business.
Krysto very much wanted to ask how they were made to wrestle, but he kept that amusing thought to himself, wondering why it was that his mind was going in each and every direction he didn't want it to. Clearing his throat, he took one final bite of his food before setting his plate aside and glancing back to the stone street. "That's an interesting plan," Krysto finally murmured when Stephanos expressed his want to become the top general once his uncle died. He wondered absently if Stephanos just thought he couldn't beat his uncle or if he was just going to lay in wait to take the title until the man kicked it.
Krysto himself wasn't exactly fond of Prince Irakles. Something about him always made him nervous. Honestly, he was just intimidating, and Krysto wasn't one to balk from intimidation, but he always found himself unsure of how to interact with the older prince. It was really strange when your best friend was the son of a prince.
"I'm sure we are bound to go to war some day," Krysto said lightly, even though he wasn't enlisted in the Taengean military anymore. He would enlist again, however, if the Kingdom ever went to war.
Krysto did notice the way that Stephanos stopped eating. Multiple times. Hoenstly, it confused the teenager, his brows furrowed at the weird reaction to whatever it was that Krysto had said to offend the prince... yet again. Already, he was running through his thoughts, the things he had alread said, wondering what it had been to make the prince react in such a manner. Half the time when Krysto saw Stephanos eat, he really didn't stop for anything.
This was... awkward. What had he said? Or was Stephanos always this strange? Had Krysto just never noticed that the prince was straight up weird, or had the young order member said something to truly offend him? He seemed to have, because Prince Stephanos was rather unfocused, even when Krysto spoke again.
If it weren't for the way that Prince Stephanos had corrected Krysto on Emilios' title, Krysto would have thought that he might have broken the prince or something. Maybe he had? If he poked him, would he still be human? He resisted the urge, finding that he didn't want to be punched more than he wanted to know if the Prince was actually okay. Whatever it was that was suddenly making him weird, he clearly wasn't going to say it out loud and Krysto wasn't going to push for an answer. It wasn't really his business.
Krysto very much wanted to ask how they were made to wrestle, but he kept that amusing thought to himself, wondering why it was that his mind was going in each and every direction he didn't want it to. Clearing his throat, he took one final bite of his food before setting his plate aside and glancing back to the stone street. "That's an interesting plan," Krysto finally murmured when Stephanos expressed his want to become the top general once his uncle died. He wondered absently if Stephanos just thought he couldn't beat his uncle or if he was just going to lay in wait to take the title until the man kicked it.
Krysto himself wasn't exactly fond of Prince Irakles. Something about him always made him nervous. Honestly, he was just intimidating, and Krysto wasn't one to balk from intimidation, but he always found himself unsure of how to interact with the older prince. It was really strange when your best friend was the son of a prince.
"I'm sure we are bound to go to war some day," Krysto said lightly, even though he wasn't enlisted in the Taengean military anymore. He would enlist again, however, if the Kingdom ever went to war.
Krysto set his plate aside, done before Stephanos was finished, but that was hardly surprising. Stephanos had paused so many times while eating, and had told the story of his and Achilleas’s first day. He looked down at his plate, concentrating on shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible, only to cover his mouth and frown at Krysto as the man commented on the ‘interesting’ nature of his future plans. Why was it ‘interesting’? It was expected. He couldn’t be an indolent nobody forever. His father wanted him to make something of himself and if he wasn’t to be king, then the military was just the thing. Fundamentally a man of peace, King Zenon also understood the necessity of war when politics had been exhausted. Perhaps, if Stephanos had shown promise as a statesman, he’d have been given a barony and a proper place in the senate. But the young prince was hot blooded and hot tempered. Though he had the smooth tongue that most courtiers could boast of, he was more likely to persuade someone with his fists, rather than his words. Besides, being cooped up inside all day was Stephanos’s own version of a nightmare. Being idle made him restless. He liked being under the blue sky, bathed in sunlight, sweating and covered in dirt or scrapes from a hard training session. Only at night, in the soft arms of a woman could he stand to be inside for any length of time.
None of this, however, he explained to the young man beside him. He let the comment go and finished up the last of his food, also setting his plate aside and examined his knuckles as Krysto looked up the street. The boy cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure we are bound to go to war some day.”
“We’d better,” Stephanos said, frowning down at the red scrapes on his knuckles. “Otherwise my time in the army is a complete and utter waste.” They weren’t bleeding anymore, but there were faint streaks of crimson where blood had flooded down the backs of his fingers and seeped into the crevices of his skin. Obviously he’d have to have that terrible smelling ointment on his hands tonight and wrap them in strips of linen. Possibly, if he wasn’t done with the whole street today, he’d be made to finish tomorrow. What a pain. With that cheerful thought in mind, Stephanos hauled himself to his feet, grabbed up the bucket by the handle, and dumped out the black water along the dip in the cobblestones. This was where rain water funneled down whenever it did rain. Vasiliadon was on flat land and would have become a floodplain if not for the depressed recesses of the streets that had been built for that very reason.
“I’m going to the well to get more water,” he announced unnecessarily and started off for the Order House’s well in their courtyard. He was back within ten minutes, settling on his hands and knees to continue scrubbing. Someone walked down the street, side stepping where Stephanos had begun scrubbing, but did walk straight over the clean stones, leaving sandal marks. Stephanos glared over his shoulder, wishing all sorts of ill on that asshole.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Krysto set his plate aside, done before Stephanos was finished, but that was hardly surprising. Stephanos had paused so many times while eating, and had told the story of his and Achilleas’s first day. He looked down at his plate, concentrating on shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible, only to cover his mouth and frown at Krysto as the man commented on the ‘interesting’ nature of his future plans. Why was it ‘interesting’? It was expected. He couldn’t be an indolent nobody forever. His father wanted him to make something of himself and if he wasn’t to be king, then the military was just the thing. Fundamentally a man of peace, King Zenon also understood the necessity of war when politics had been exhausted. Perhaps, if Stephanos had shown promise as a statesman, he’d have been given a barony and a proper place in the senate. But the young prince was hot blooded and hot tempered. Though he had the smooth tongue that most courtiers could boast of, he was more likely to persuade someone with his fists, rather than his words. Besides, being cooped up inside all day was Stephanos’s own version of a nightmare. Being idle made him restless. He liked being under the blue sky, bathed in sunlight, sweating and covered in dirt or scrapes from a hard training session. Only at night, in the soft arms of a woman could he stand to be inside for any length of time.
None of this, however, he explained to the young man beside him. He let the comment go and finished up the last of his food, also setting his plate aside and examined his knuckles as Krysto looked up the street. The boy cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure we are bound to go to war some day.”
“We’d better,” Stephanos said, frowning down at the red scrapes on his knuckles. “Otherwise my time in the army is a complete and utter waste.” They weren’t bleeding anymore, but there were faint streaks of crimson where blood had flooded down the backs of his fingers and seeped into the crevices of his skin. Obviously he’d have to have that terrible smelling ointment on his hands tonight and wrap them in strips of linen. Possibly, if he wasn’t done with the whole street today, he’d be made to finish tomorrow. What a pain. With that cheerful thought in mind, Stephanos hauled himself to his feet, grabbed up the bucket by the handle, and dumped out the black water along the dip in the cobblestones. This was where rain water funneled down whenever it did rain. Vasiliadon was on flat land and would have become a floodplain if not for the depressed recesses of the streets that had been built for that very reason.
“I’m going to the well to get more water,” he announced unnecessarily and started off for the Order House’s well in their courtyard. He was back within ten minutes, settling on his hands and knees to continue scrubbing. Someone walked down the street, side stepping where Stephanos had begun scrubbing, but did walk straight over the clean stones, leaving sandal marks. Stephanos glared over his shoulder, wishing all sorts of ill on that asshole.
Krysto set his plate aside, done before Stephanos was finished, but that was hardly surprising. Stephanos had paused so many times while eating, and had told the story of his and Achilleas’s first day. He looked down at his plate, concentrating on shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible, only to cover his mouth and frown at Krysto as the man commented on the ‘interesting’ nature of his future plans. Why was it ‘interesting’? It was expected. He couldn’t be an indolent nobody forever. His father wanted him to make something of himself and if he wasn’t to be king, then the military was just the thing. Fundamentally a man of peace, King Zenon also understood the necessity of war when politics had been exhausted. Perhaps, if Stephanos had shown promise as a statesman, he’d have been given a barony and a proper place in the senate. But the young prince was hot blooded and hot tempered. Though he had the smooth tongue that most courtiers could boast of, he was more likely to persuade someone with his fists, rather than his words. Besides, being cooped up inside all day was Stephanos’s own version of a nightmare. Being idle made him restless. He liked being under the blue sky, bathed in sunlight, sweating and covered in dirt or scrapes from a hard training session. Only at night, in the soft arms of a woman could he stand to be inside for any length of time.
None of this, however, he explained to the young man beside him. He let the comment go and finished up the last of his food, also setting his plate aside and examined his knuckles as Krysto looked up the street. The boy cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure we are bound to go to war some day.”
“We’d better,” Stephanos said, frowning down at the red scrapes on his knuckles. “Otherwise my time in the army is a complete and utter waste.” They weren’t bleeding anymore, but there were faint streaks of crimson where blood had flooded down the backs of his fingers and seeped into the crevices of his skin. Obviously he’d have to have that terrible smelling ointment on his hands tonight and wrap them in strips of linen. Possibly, if he wasn’t done with the whole street today, he’d be made to finish tomorrow. What a pain. With that cheerful thought in mind, Stephanos hauled himself to his feet, grabbed up the bucket by the handle, and dumped out the black water along the dip in the cobblestones. This was where rain water funneled down whenever it did rain. Vasiliadon was on flat land and would have become a floodplain if not for the depressed recesses of the streets that had been built for that very reason.
“I’m going to the well to get more water,” he announced unnecessarily and started off for the Order House’s well in their courtyard. He was back within ten minutes, settling on his hands and knees to continue scrubbing. Someone walked down the street, side stepping where Stephanos had begun scrubbing, but did walk straight over the clean stones, leaving sandal marks. Stephanos glared over his shoulder, wishing all sorts of ill on that asshole.
"Mine too," Krysto murmured, staring down at his hands. Rolling his shoulders a little, the man focused on watching the people walk back and forth down the street. Many were alone, but some walked in pairs. Some carried parcels and baskets, others held nothing in their hands. It was engaging, really, watching the way that people moved about throughout the day. Most of these people he had seen while on the patrol earlier in the day. What brought them from the fields to here was a question Krysto couldn't answer, nor did he have that much interest. Sometimes he just liked to watch people, their body language, any telling mannerisms.
Glancing back toward Stephanos as he dumped the dirty water down the unwashed part of the street, Krysto found himself pushing to his feet. Grabbing both plates that he had used to bring food out on, the young man nodded toward the Order House. "I'll go with you. I need to see what else needs to be done anyway," Krysto said lightly, walking at the same pace as the prince. They made it to the Order House at the same time and Krysto gave another singular nod and then a bow to the prince. "Good luck with your stones," the man noted lightly before starting up the steps into the large order house.
He brought the plates back to the kitchens and then set to helping the cooks clean up from the lunch mess without asking. When he was finished with that, he decided to do another round around the city with a few of the older men. When he stepped back onto the street with them some time after he had left Stephanos with his new bucket of water, the man glanced down the street and quietly noted that the prince was still at it. Now, there was really no humor in it.
It was, after all, one of the worst punishments and Krysto truly wouldn't have wished it on Stephanos despite his own amusement. He made a mental note to truly make ammends for being an asshole earlier, if only because the guilt was starting to catch up to him. Then he put it out of his mind for a time, turning to follow the other Order men in the opposite direction. This time, they would be patrolling the inner city of Vasiliadon for any trouble, which they rarely found, but was expected fo them nevertheless.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
"Mine too," Krysto murmured, staring down at his hands. Rolling his shoulders a little, the man focused on watching the people walk back and forth down the street. Many were alone, but some walked in pairs. Some carried parcels and baskets, others held nothing in their hands. It was engaging, really, watching the way that people moved about throughout the day. Most of these people he had seen while on the patrol earlier in the day. What brought them from the fields to here was a question Krysto couldn't answer, nor did he have that much interest. Sometimes he just liked to watch people, their body language, any telling mannerisms.
Glancing back toward Stephanos as he dumped the dirty water down the unwashed part of the street, Krysto found himself pushing to his feet. Grabbing both plates that he had used to bring food out on, the young man nodded toward the Order House. "I'll go with you. I need to see what else needs to be done anyway," Krysto said lightly, walking at the same pace as the prince. They made it to the Order House at the same time and Krysto gave another singular nod and then a bow to the prince. "Good luck with your stones," the man noted lightly before starting up the steps into the large order house.
He brought the plates back to the kitchens and then set to helping the cooks clean up from the lunch mess without asking. When he was finished with that, he decided to do another round around the city with a few of the older men. When he stepped back onto the street with them some time after he had left Stephanos with his new bucket of water, the man glanced down the street and quietly noted that the prince was still at it. Now, there was really no humor in it.
It was, after all, one of the worst punishments and Krysto truly wouldn't have wished it on Stephanos despite his own amusement. He made a mental note to truly make ammends for being an asshole earlier, if only because the guilt was starting to catch up to him. Then he put it out of his mind for a time, turning to follow the other Order men in the opposite direction. This time, they would be patrolling the inner city of Vasiliadon for any trouble, which they rarely found, but was expected fo them nevertheless.
"Mine too," Krysto murmured, staring down at his hands. Rolling his shoulders a little, the man focused on watching the people walk back and forth down the street. Many were alone, but some walked in pairs. Some carried parcels and baskets, others held nothing in their hands. It was engaging, really, watching the way that people moved about throughout the day. Most of these people he had seen while on the patrol earlier in the day. What brought them from the fields to here was a question Krysto couldn't answer, nor did he have that much interest. Sometimes he just liked to watch people, their body language, any telling mannerisms.
Glancing back toward Stephanos as he dumped the dirty water down the unwashed part of the street, Krysto found himself pushing to his feet. Grabbing both plates that he had used to bring food out on, the young man nodded toward the Order House. "I'll go with you. I need to see what else needs to be done anyway," Krysto said lightly, walking at the same pace as the prince. They made it to the Order House at the same time and Krysto gave another singular nod and then a bow to the prince. "Good luck with your stones," the man noted lightly before starting up the steps into the large order house.
He brought the plates back to the kitchens and then set to helping the cooks clean up from the lunch mess without asking. When he was finished with that, he decided to do another round around the city with a few of the older men. When he stepped back onto the street with them some time after he had left Stephanos with his new bucket of water, the man glanced down the street and quietly noted that the prince was still at it. Now, there was really no humor in it.
It was, after all, one of the worst punishments and Krysto truly wouldn't have wished it on Stephanos despite his own amusement. He made a mental note to truly make ammends for being an asshole earlier, if only because the guilt was starting to catch up to him. Then he put it out of his mind for a time, turning to follow the other Order men in the opposite direction. This time, they would be patrolling the inner city of Vasiliadon for any trouble, which they rarely found, but was expected fo them nevertheless.