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Allegedly, Mihail was an adult. He did not feel like an adult, nor did he look like one, but he was one. Fortunately for him, adulthood did not really lead to many excessive responsibilities by virtue of his being born the second of two sons, and most genuine duties were passed onto his brother. Nonetheless, his status in the family hierarchy did not prevent him from having to take part in all things, and some matters continued to require his attention.
First and foremost, the boy was to attend his first court session. This was something for which he had been quite eager a while now, wholly intrigued by all the intricacies and gossip and keen to involve himself. In his far-from-humble opinion, it was the exact situation where the youngest Thanasi believed he could shine. He was coming to discover that words were his favourite plaything, and their playground was to be where rumour abounded.
And yet, he was nervous in that odd way in which he was still afraid of the unknown, no matter how harshly he had rebranded himself over the past few years. This was a Kotas stomping-ground, full of all those with whom the ruling family were friendly and far separate from the few who were more frequent visitors to the Thanasi home. Mihail did not yet know how to play with their words, and it would take time to learn. Not so long that it would be problematic, but more than a single session could give him.
He had come into the Dikastírio holding Nethis's hand like he always did when something overwhelmed him or he wanted to appear smaller than he was, reassured by her comments that he would not have so awful a first court session as she. She had defended him earlier when some cruel comment had been made about his hair: a suggestion that it should be cropped from its chest-length because he looked too feminine, and he had only cried because, although he thought himself stronger than before, he could not bear the thought. But once they were in the great hall, and he had run his childishly cold gaze over the rest of the attendees, he had pushed it away in that petulant manner of his and gone to make his own way in the world, so to speak.
The rest of his family were, presumably, doing what they were meant to do during court sessions, but Mihail neither knew those people nor cared for them. Besides, he would rather not spend however long this was with his brother or father (it was hardly as though their conversations were all that interesting, anyhow), and he had wandered into the crowd of nobles to see what conversations they might have that he could thieve away for later possible use.
Not that noble adults spoke about much of interest. Mostly trouble within their home provinces or other dull matters in which he had no interest — the kinds of things his eldest sister spoke about that he didn't really care about. Still, it was something, and he would barely have been a Thanasi if he did not know how to work with what he was given.
Some Kotas vassals were chattering to one side, whose conversation seemed valuable enough that Nethis, at least, might care if her younger brother discovered it. Unfortunately, Mihail found his path blocked by some people who clearly did not care that he was trying to listen in, and he was forced to try and push them out of the way with all his twelve-year-old lack of strength, features contorted into an annoyed little frown when they did not budge as he wanted.
"You are in the way," he announced, as though his actions had not been clear enough, attempting to sound forceful. "Move, or I will tell Net that you are bothering me."
Az
Mihail
Az
Mihail
Awards
First Impressions:Slim; Broken nose, piercing gaze, red-painted nails.
Address: Your His Lordship
Allegedly, Mihail was an adult. He did not feel like an adult, nor did he look like one, but he was one. Fortunately for him, adulthood did not really lead to many excessive responsibilities by virtue of his being born the second of two sons, and most genuine duties were passed onto his brother. Nonetheless, his status in the family hierarchy did not prevent him from having to take part in all things, and some matters continued to require his attention.
First and foremost, the boy was to attend his first court session. This was something for which he had been quite eager a while now, wholly intrigued by all the intricacies and gossip and keen to involve himself. In his far-from-humble opinion, it was the exact situation where the youngest Thanasi believed he could shine. He was coming to discover that words were his favourite plaything, and their playground was to be where rumour abounded.
And yet, he was nervous in that odd way in which he was still afraid of the unknown, no matter how harshly he had rebranded himself over the past few years. This was a Kotas stomping-ground, full of all those with whom the ruling family were friendly and far separate from the few who were more frequent visitors to the Thanasi home. Mihail did not yet know how to play with their words, and it would take time to learn. Not so long that it would be problematic, but more than a single session could give him.
He had come into the Dikastírio holding Nethis's hand like he always did when something overwhelmed him or he wanted to appear smaller than he was, reassured by her comments that he would not have so awful a first court session as she. She had defended him earlier when some cruel comment had been made about his hair: a suggestion that it should be cropped from its chest-length because he looked too feminine, and he had only cried because, although he thought himself stronger than before, he could not bear the thought. But once they were in the great hall, and he had run his childishly cold gaze over the rest of the attendees, he had pushed it away in that petulant manner of his and gone to make his own way in the world, so to speak.
The rest of his family were, presumably, doing what they were meant to do during court sessions, but Mihail neither knew those people nor cared for them. Besides, he would rather not spend however long this was with his brother or father (it was hardly as though their conversations were all that interesting, anyhow), and he had wandered into the crowd of nobles to see what conversations they might have that he could thieve away for later possible use.
Not that noble adults spoke about much of interest. Mostly trouble within their home provinces or other dull matters in which he had no interest — the kinds of things his eldest sister spoke about that he didn't really care about. Still, it was something, and he would barely have been a Thanasi if he did not know how to work with what he was given.
Some Kotas vassals were chattering to one side, whose conversation seemed valuable enough that Nethis, at least, might care if her younger brother discovered it. Unfortunately, Mihail found his path blocked by some people who clearly did not care that he was trying to listen in, and he was forced to try and push them out of the way with all his twelve-year-old lack of strength, features contorted into an annoyed little frown when they did not budge as he wanted.
"You are in the way," he announced, as though his actions had not been clear enough, attempting to sound forceful. "Move, or I will tell Net that you are bothering me."
Allegedly, Mihail was an adult. He did not feel like an adult, nor did he look like one, but he was one. Fortunately for him, adulthood did not really lead to many excessive responsibilities by virtue of his being born the second of two sons, and most genuine duties were passed onto his brother. Nonetheless, his status in the family hierarchy did not prevent him from having to take part in all things, and some matters continued to require his attention.
First and foremost, the boy was to attend his first court session. This was something for which he had been quite eager a while now, wholly intrigued by all the intricacies and gossip and keen to involve himself. In his far-from-humble opinion, it was the exact situation where the youngest Thanasi believed he could shine. He was coming to discover that words were his favourite plaything, and their playground was to be where rumour abounded.
And yet, he was nervous in that odd way in which he was still afraid of the unknown, no matter how harshly he had rebranded himself over the past few years. This was a Kotas stomping-ground, full of all those with whom the ruling family were friendly and far separate from the few who were more frequent visitors to the Thanasi home. Mihail did not yet know how to play with their words, and it would take time to learn. Not so long that it would be problematic, but more than a single session could give him.
He had come into the Dikastírio holding Nethis's hand like he always did when something overwhelmed him or he wanted to appear smaller than he was, reassured by her comments that he would not have so awful a first court session as she. She had defended him earlier when some cruel comment had been made about his hair: a suggestion that it should be cropped from its chest-length because he looked too feminine, and he had only cried because, although he thought himself stronger than before, he could not bear the thought. But once they were in the great hall, and he had run his childishly cold gaze over the rest of the attendees, he had pushed it away in that petulant manner of his and gone to make his own way in the world, so to speak.
The rest of his family were, presumably, doing what they were meant to do during court sessions, but Mihail neither knew those people nor cared for them. Besides, he would rather not spend however long this was with his brother or father (it was hardly as though their conversations were all that interesting, anyhow), and he had wandered into the crowd of nobles to see what conversations they might have that he could thieve away for later possible use.
Not that noble adults spoke about much of interest. Mostly trouble within their home provinces or other dull matters in which he had no interest — the kinds of things his eldest sister spoke about that he didn't really care about. Still, it was something, and he would barely have been a Thanasi if he did not know how to work with what he was given.
Some Kotas vassals were chattering to one side, whose conversation seemed valuable enough that Nethis, at least, might care if her younger brother discovered it. Unfortunately, Mihail found his path blocked by some people who clearly did not care that he was trying to listen in, and he was forced to try and push them out of the way with all his twelve-year-old lack of strength, features contorted into an annoyed little frown when they did not budge as he wanted.
"You are in the way," he announced, as though his actions had not been clear enough, attempting to sound forceful. "Move, or I will tell Net that you are bothering me."
As far as Mikael was concerned, the best thing about court was the opportunity to be in close quarters with the various, and very beautiful, ladies of Colchis. He cared little for how his older brother always seemed enthralled by the political conversations around them, nor how his sister preferred to flock to the other ladies to share gossip. At fifteen, his only goal was to do exactly the opposite of what his parents would have expected of him.
Though he knew he likely could have followed Photis’ example in his absence and jumped into thought provoking discussion, he preferred to do anything but solely because his father would have approved. There were a number of...disagreements between himself and his father. The arguments (or really, debates as could only be expected of an Eliades) between father and son tended to put Mikael in a sour mood. He was looking for a way to lift his spirits...among other things.
While he wasn’t sure where either of his parents were, Mikael did not preoccupy himself with finding them as he had on his first day of court. At fifteen, he had done this hundreds of times and no longer looked to his parents in court, unless it was to ensure they would not catch him misbehaving before he could have his fun. He had plenty of practice avoiding their detection at home while he tormented the servants and wreaked havoc elsewhere. Today it seemed his parents were busying themselves somewhere else, which meant now was the perfect time to properly enjoy himself and, more than likely, cause some trouble.
Instead of paying any mind to the conversations going on around him, Mikael entertained himself by snickering lascivious comments into the ears of his companions, daring each of them to point out the lady they wanted to make them men. In spite of the side eyes he received by nearby disapproving parties, he continued to taunt his company about their choices as he began to look for his own. That one too tall. This one is too awkward. Definitely not that one.
His eyes were focused on the backsides of many different ladies, but before he could point out the one he liked, he was interrupted by the very offensive sensation of being pushed. At first, he assumed someone simply wasn’t paying attention and bumped into him, but when that bump turned into a persistent pressure, his attitude changed.
He was more than ready to shove back -- despite the fact that the initial push did not move him in the slightest -- until he turned around and saw...a girl? She looked far too young to be attending court and seemed to not understand who she had just pushed. Maybe she snuck in. If so, she had done a terrible job at going undetected. Still, he could sympathize with going places that were technically off limits. Mikael intended to simply let the girl off with a warning before others noticed her presence, until she opened her mouth and tried to order him out of the way. Now, his companions, having noticed he had not joined back into their conversation, turned their heads to see what had caused the undue silence. Immediately they started whispering.
Now. he had no choice but to make a scene, unless he wanted his friends to start believing he would allow a girl to shove him and try to order him around like that.
“I think you need to be looking to talk to a physician because it’s obvious to me you’re going blind.” Mikael raised a brow, scoffing as he did. “That, or you’re too stupid to know how to walk around someone you can’t push out of the way. I’m not sure which is more likely.”
Ché
Mikael
Ché
Mikael
Awards
First Impressions:Sturdy; Reddish brown hair, furious blue eyes, and a near constantly bruised lip.
Address: Your His Lordship
As far as Mikael was concerned, the best thing about court was the opportunity to be in close quarters with the various, and very beautiful, ladies of Colchis. He cared little for how his older brother always seemed enthralled by the political conversations around them, nor how his sister preferred to flock to the other ladies to share gossip. At fifteen, his only goal was to do exactly the opposite of what his parents would have expected of him.
Though he knew he likely could have followed Photis’ example in his absence and jumped into thought provoking discussion, he preferred to do anything but solely because his father would have approved. There were a number of...disagreements between himself and his father. The arguments (or really, debates as could only be expected of an Eliades) between father and son tended to put Mikael in a sour mood. He was looking for a way to lift his spirits...among other things.
While he wasn’t sure where either of his parents were, Mikael did not preoccupy himself with finding them as he had on his first day of court. At fifteen, he had done this hundreds of times and no longer looked to his parents in court, unless it was to ensure they would not catch him misbehaving before he could have his fun. He had plenty of practice avoiding their detection at home while he tormented the servants and wreaked havoc elsewhere. Today it seemed his parents were busying themselves somewhere else, which meant now was the perfect time to properly enjoy himself and, more than likely, cause some trouble.
Instead of paying any mind to the conversations going on around him, Mikael entertained himself by snickering lascivious comments into the ears of his companions, daring each of them to point out the lady they wanted to make them men. In spite of the side eyes he received by nearby disapproving parties, he continued to taunt his company about their choices as he began to look for his own. That one too tall. This one is too awkward. Definitely not that one.
His eyes were focused on the backsides of many different ladies, but before he could point out the one he liked, he was interrupted by the very offensive sensation of being pushed. At first, he assumed someone simply wasn’t paying attention and bumped into him, but when that bump turned into a persistent pressure, his attitude changed.
He was more than ready to shove back -- despite the fact that the initial push did not move him in the slightest -- until he turned around and saw...a girl? She looked far too young to be attending court and seemed to not understand who she had just pushed. Maybe she snuck in. If so, she had done a terrible job at going undetected. Still, he could sympathize with going places that were technically off limits. Mikael intended to simply let the girl off with a warning before others noticed her presence, until she opened her mouth and tried to order him out of the way. Now, his companions, having noticed he had not joined back into their conversation, turned their heads to see what had caused the undue silence. Immediately they started whispering.
Now. he had no choice but to make a scene, unless he wanted his friends to start believing he would allow a girl to shove him and try to order him around like that.
“I think you need to be looking to talk to a physician because it’s obvious to me you’re going blind.” Mikael raised a brow, scoffing as he did. “That, or you’re too stupid to know how to walk around someone you can’t push out of the way. I’m not sure which is more likely.”
As far as Mikael was concerned, the best thing about court was the opportunity to be in close quarters with the various, and very beautiful, ladies of Colchis. He cared little for how his older brother always seemed enthralled by the political conversations around them, nor how his sister preferred to flock to the other ladies to share gossip. At fifteen, his only goal was to do exactly the opposite of what his parents would have expected of him.
Though he knew he likely could have followed Photis’ example in his absence and jumped into thought provoking discussion, he preferred to do anything but solely because his father would have approved. There were a number of...disagreements between himself and his father. The arguments (or really, debates as could only be expected of an Eliades) between father and son tended to put Mikael in a sour mood. He was looking for a way to lift his spirits...among other things.
While he wasn’t sure where either of his parents were, Mikael did not preoccupy himself with finding them as he had on his first day of court. At fifteen, he had done this hundreds of times and no longer looked to his parents in court, unless it was to ensure they would not catch him misbehaving before he could have his fun. He had plenty of practice avoiding their detection at home while he tormented the servants and wreaked havoc elsewhere. Today it seemed his parents were busying themselves somewhere else, which meant now was the perfect time to properly enjoy himself and, more than likely, cause some trouble.
Instead of paying any mind to the conversations going on around him, Mikael entertained himself by snickering lascivious comments into the ears of his companions, daring each of them to point out the lady they wanted to make them men. In spite of the side eyes he received by nearby disapproving parties, he continued to taunt his company about their choices as he began to look for his own. That one too tall. This one is too awkward. Definitely not that one.
His eyes were focused on the backsides of many different ladies, but before he could point out the one he liked, he was interrupted by the very offensive sensation of being pushed. At first, he assumed someone simply wasn’t paying attention and bumped into him, but when that bump turned into a persistent pressure, his attitude changed.
He was more than ready to shove back -- despite the fact that the initial push did not move him in the slightest -- until he turned around and saw...a girl? She looked far too young to be attending court and seemed to not understand who she had just pushed. Maybe she snuck in. If so, she had done a terrible job at going undetected. Still, he could sympathize with going places that were technically off limits. Mikael intended to simply let the girl off with a warning before others noticed her presence, until she opened her mouth and tried to order him out of the way. Now, his companions, having noticed he had not joined back into their conversation, turned their heads to see what had caused the undue silence. Immediately they started whispering.
Now. he had no choice but to make a scene, unless he wanted his friends to start believing he would allow a girl to shove him and try to order him around like that.
“I think you need to be looking to talk to a physician because it’s obvious to me you’re going blind.” Mikael raised a brow, scoffing as he did. “That, or you’re too stupid to know how to walk around someone you can’t push out of the way. I’m not sure which is more likely.”
Mihail did not like being told 'no'. He was not entirely used to hearing rejection in most things — he had long since learned where best to voice his wants that could guarantee their fulfilment — and he was even more unused to dismissal from third parties outside his family. His brother and father were from whom most objections came, and this boy was not one of them, so he was unwilling to accept the response (not that he tended to take it from those two disliked members of his family either).
He was not going blind, and he was not stupid. Even at the tender age of twelve, the youngest Thanasi was of the mind that he was more intelligent than most individuals he stumbled across (a family virtue), and 'stupid' was not an adjective he would ever have placed upon himself. He could not complain at the use of insulting words, so commonly did he engage in them himself, but he thought it cheap to use ones that were so blatantly false.
"I am a Thanasi," he announced, as though this was supposed to count as a reason to be left alone. "I am not an idiot, and I do not have to walk around you if I do not want to." Mihail dropped small hands to his hips, scrunching them up in the red fabric of his chiton, lower lip jutting out as it did when he wanted something from his sisters. Not that it would work with some random man. "I want you to move so you have to move out of the way."
That seemed a reasonable enough argument. It didn't exactly follow any of the logic or the cunning on which he and his family traditionally prided themselves, but it was enough for now. He wasn't really interested in the idea of formulating a proper debate when all he wanted to do was shove past the boy — not that it mattered anymore when the conversation he had wanted to listen in on was practically over —, and now he was getting annoyed. Childish though it might have sounded, he didn't exactly like getting called blind or stupid.
Nonetheless, because he wasn't stupid, Mihail did know that this kind of discussion wasn't going to work. In the very brief period of time that he had been speaking to this boy, he had noted that, to a degree, he was a bit like Dysius. Not agreeable, so to say.
He couldn't see Nethis anywhere nearby (a fact that was not helped by the fact that he was still too short to look over the heads of everyone else there), so he supposed he had to deal with this himself, which didn't seem particularly fair when he was so used to passing on troubles to his sister (and had already used her name as a threat). Now he just looked pathetic, and that was the opposite of how the youngest Thanasi liked to look, so he turned to the only solution that seemed reasonable.
"Are you going to do what you are told, or do I have to do something about it?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the boy before him and pretend that it was his brother, who was much easier to fight with because Mihail knew what he was dealing with. He stretched out his arms again, pushing the boy sharply as if it would help somehow and not only serve to anger him further. "Move."
Az
Mihail
Az
Mihail
Awards
First Impressions:Slim; Broken nose, piercing gaze, red-painted nails.
Address: Your His Lordship
Mihail did not like being told 'no'. He was not entirely used to hearing rejection in most things — he had long since learned where best to voice his wants that could guarantee their fulfilment — and he was even more unused to dismissal from third parties outside his family. His brother and father were from whom most objections came, and this boy was not one of them, so he was unwilling to accept the response (not that he tended to take it from those two disliked members of his family either).
He was not going blind, and he was not stupid. Even at the tender age of twelve, the youngest Thanasi was of the mind that he was more intelligent than most individuals he stumbled across (a family virtue), and 'stupid' was not an adjective he would ever have placed upon himself. He could not complain at the use of insulting words, so commonly did he engage in them himself, but he thought it cheap to use ones that were so blatantly false.
"I am a Thanasi," he announced, as though this was supposed to count as a reason to be left alone. "I am not an idiot, and I do not have to walk around you if I do not want to." Mihail dropped small hands to his hips, scrunching them up in the red fabric of his chiton, lower lip jutting out as it did when he wanted something from his sisters. Not that it would work with some random man. "I want you to move so you have to move out of the way."
That seemed a reasonable enough argument. It didn't exactly follow any of the logic or the cunning on which he and his family traditionally prided themselves, but it was enough for now. He wasn't really interested in the idea of formulating a proper debate when all he wanted to do was shove past the boy — not that it mattered anymore when the conversation he had wanted to listen in on was practically over —, and now he was getting annoyed. Childish though it might have sounded, he didn't exactly like getting called blind or stupid.
Nonetheless, because he wasn't stupid, Mihail did know that this kind of discussion wasn't going to work. In the very brief period of time that he had been speaking to this boy, he had noted that, to a degree, he was a bit like Dysius. Not agreeable, so to say.
He couldn't see Nethis anywhere nearby (a fact that was not helped by the fact that he was still too short to look over the heads of everyone else there), so he supposed he had to deal with this himself, which didn't seem particularly fair when he was so used to passing on troubles to his sister (and had already used her name as a threat). Now he just looked pathetic, and that was the opposite of how the youngest Thanasi liked to look, so he turned to the only solution that seemed reasonable.
"Are you going to do what you are told, or do I have to do something about it?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the boy before him and pretend that it was his brother, who was much easier to fight with because Mihail knew what he was dealing with. He stretched out his arms again, pushing the boy sharply as if it would help somehow and not only serve to anger him further. "Move."
Mihail did not like being told 'no'. He was not entirely used to hearing rejection in most things — he had long since learned where best to voice his wants that could guarantee their fulfilment — and he was even more unused to dismissal from third parties outside his family. His brother and father were from whom most objections came, and this boy was not one of them, so he was unwilling to accept the response (not that he tended to take it from those two disliked members of his family either).
He was not going blind, and he was not stupid. Even at the tender age of twelve, the youngest Thanasi was of the mind that he was more intelligent than most individuals he stumbled across (a family virtue), and 'stupid' was not an adjective he would ever have placed upon himself. He could not complain at the use of insulting words, so commonly did he engage in them himself, but he thought it cheap to use ones that were so blatantly false.
"I am a Thanasi," he announced, as though this was supposed to count as a reason to be left alone. "I am not an idiot, and I do not have to walk around you if I do not want to." Mihail dropped small hands to his hips, scrunching them up in the red fabric of his chiton, lower lip jutting out as it did when he wanted something from his sisters. Not that it would work with some random man. "I want you to move so you have to move out of the way."
That seemed a reasonable enough argument. It didn't exactly follow any of the logic or the cunning on which he and his family traditionally prided themselves, but it was enough for now. He wasn't really interested in the idea of formulating a proper debate when all he wanted to do was shove past the boy — not that it mattered anymore when the conversation he had wanted to listen in on was practically over —, and now he was getting annoyed. Childish though it might have sounded, he didn't exactly like getting called blind or stupid.
Nonetheless, because he wasn't stupid, Mihail did know that this kind of discussion wasn't going to work. In the very brief period of time that he had been speaking to this boy, he had noted that, to a degree, he was a bit like Dysius. Not agreeable, so to say.
He couldn't see Nethis anywhere nearby (a fact that was not helped by the fact that he was still too short to look over the heads of everyone else there), so he supposed he had to deal with this himself, which didn't seem particularly fair when he was so used to passing on troubles to his sister (and had already used her name as a threat). Now he just looked pathetic, and that was the opposite of how the youngest Thanasi liked to look, so he turned to the only solution that seemed reasonable.
"Are you going to do what you are told, or do I have to do something about it?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the boy before him and pretend that it was his brother, who was much easier to fight with because Mihail knew what he was dealing with. He stretched out his arms again, pushing the boy sharply as if it would help somehow and not only serve to anger him further. "Move."
Mikael was not accustomed to having someone disregard his blatant threat or double down on their own stupid demands. It almost made sense when this ‘girl’ revealed herself to in fact be a Thanasi. That caused Mikael to pause for a moment. Girl? Thanasi? He had seen the Thanasi women and they were far better looking than this black-haired annoyance. If nothing else, it was admittedly easier to threaten a boy over a girl. Everyone always seemed to have such a big problem with him trying to roughhouse the girls, even when they started it. That wasn’t fair nor did it make any sense to the young Eliades lord, but no matter -- the current target of his wrath would do quite nicely.
He pointedly rolled his eyes when the Thanasi boy denied being a blind idiot. That voice was so annoying. He wanted it to stop, but not before he reminded this welp what it meant to mess with him. This was, after all, a most unwelcome interruption that he should have wanted a swift end to. Yet, seeing the scrawny baby standing before him and making demands provoked a desire for cruelty within the young Eliades lord. Maybe it would have been more practical for him to simply ignore the Thanasi boy, but he had an audience...and he so hated to pass up the opportunity to remind them why he was in charge.
Before he could open his mouth to warn the boy off, he was pushed.
Pushed.
It wasn’t much but still he paused.
Mikael glanced at his companions after giving the boy a slow, contempt filled once over, then, he started laughing. His friends joined him in a chorus of mocking belly laughter. There were plenty of comments made about the boy’s appearance and none were particularly kind: Ugly. Girly. Small. Stupid. Big nose. Little eyes. It didn’t matter if anything said was true, it only needed to hurt.
But the laughing stopped when Mikael did.
No more of that. It was time to make a point: Mikael of Eliades was not to be pushed around or disrespected, especially not by some Thanasi whelp.
He looked the boy over once more and scoffed as he did. ”Was that it?” he sneered. ”You push like a baby.” He took a step forward as he issued his challenge, puffing his chest out. ”If you think you’re so tough, idiot, why don’t you make me move?” He had no qualms about goading the boy. A lesson needed to be taught and one that would not soon be forgotten. Who better to make an example of than the fool who tried to order him around? No one ordered him around, least of all this grunt.
”Go on,” he hissed, ”try me.”
Ché
Mikael
Ché
Mikael
Awards
First Impressions:Sturdy; Reddish brown hair, furious blue eyes, and a near constantly bruised lip.
Address: Your His Lordship
Mikael was not accustomed to having someone disregard his blatant threat or double down on their own stupid demands. It almost made sense when this ‘girl’ revealed herself to in fact be a Thanasi. That caused Mikael to pause for a moment. Girl? Thanasi? He had seen the Thanasi women and they were far better looking than this black-haired annoyance. If nothing else, it was admittedly easier to threaten a boy over a girl. Everyone always seemed to have such a big problem with him trying to roughhouse the girls, even when they started it. That wasn’t fair nor did it make any sense to the young Eliades lord, but no matter -- the current target of his wrath would do quite nicely.
He pointedly rolled his eyes when the Thanasi boy denied being a blind idiot. That voice was so annoying. He wanted it to stop, but not before he reminded this welp what it meant to mess with him. This was, after all, a most unwelcome interruption that he should have wanted a swift end to. Yet, seeing the scrawny baby standing before him and making demands provoked a desire for cruelty within the young Eliades lord. Maybe it would have been more practical for him to simply ignore the Thanasi boy, but he had an audience...and he so hated to pass up the opportunity to remind them why he was in charge.
Before he could open his mouth to warn the boy off, he was pushed.
Pushed.
It wasn’t much but still he paused.
Mikael glanced at his companions after giving the boy a slow, contempt filled once over, then, he started laughing. His friends joined him in a chorus of mocking belly laughter. There were plenty of comments made about the boy’s appearance and none were particularly kind: Ugly. Girly. Small. Stupid. Big nose. Little eyes. It didn’t matter if anything said was true, it only needed to hurt.
But the laughing stopped when Mikael did.
No more of that. It was time to make a point: Mikael of Eliades was not to be pushed around or disrespected, especially not by some Thanasi whelp.
He looked the boy over once more and scoffed as he did. ”Was that it?” he sneered. ”You push like a baby.” He took a step forward as he issued his challenge, puffing his chest out. ”If you think you’re so tough, idiot, why don’t you make me move?” He had no qualms about goading the boy. A lesson needed to be taught and one that would not soon be forgotten. Who better to make an example of than the fool who tried to order him around? No one ordered him around, least of all this grunt.
”Go on,” he hissed, ”try me.”
Mikael was not accustomed to having someone disregard his blatant threat or double down on their own stupid demands. It almost made sense when this ‘girl’ revealed herself to in fact be a Thanasi. That caused Mikael to pause for a moment. Girl? Thanasi? He had seen the Thanasi women and they were far better looking than this black-haired annoyance. If nothing else, it was admittedly easier to threaten a boy over a girl. Everyone always seemed to have such a big problem with him trying to roughhouse the girls, even when they started it. That wasn’t fair nor did it make any sense to the young Eliades lord, but no matter -- the current target of his wrath would do quite nicely.
He pointedly rolled his eyes when the Thanasi boy denied being a blind idiot. That voice was so annoying. He wanted it to stop, but not before he reminded this welp what it meant to mess with him. This was, after all, a most unwelcome interruption that he should have wanted a swift end to. Yet, seeing the scrawny baby standing before him and making demands provoked a desire for cruelty within the young Eliades lord. Maybe it would have been more practical for him to simply ignore the Thanasi boy, but he had an audience...and he so hated to pass up the opportunity to remind them why he was in charge.
Before he could open his mouth to warn the boy off, he was pushed.
Pushed.
It wasn’t much but still he paused.
Mikael glanced at his companions after giving the boy a slow, contempt filled once over, then, he started laughing. His friends joined him in a chorus of mocking belly laughter. There were plenty of comments made about the boy’s appearance and none were particularly kind: Ugly. Girly. Small. Stupid. Big nose. Little eyes. It didn’t matter if anything said was true, it only needed to hurt.
But the laughing stopped when Mikael did.
No more of that. It was time to make a point: Mikael of Eliades was not to be pushed around or disrespected, especially not by some Thanasi whelp.
He looked the boy over once more and scoffed as he did. ”Was that it?” he sneered. ”You push like a baby.” He took a step forward as he issued his challenge, puffing his chest out. ”If you think you’re so tough, idiot, why don’t you make me move?” He had no qualms about goading the boy. A lesson needed to be taught and one that would not soon be forgotten. Who better to make an example of than the fool who tried to order him around? No one ordered him around, least of all this grunt.
”Go on,” he hissed, ”try me.”
This was not working out the way Mihail wanted and that was categorically not fair. People did not usually tell him ‘no’, and they did not usually treat him as a child. Even with his younger-looking features — he had not yet grown into those harsh Thanasi features that were noticeably present if not yet fully developed: his cheekbones were not yet past their puffy state and his walk continued to possess a little stumble that had not come into its own — they did not usually treat him so condescendingly, afraid of Thanasi wrath or some other unknown force. When he wanted, people often gave, and even on those occasions when his oldest sister did not, then there were two others who were frequently more considerate. He did not like rejection, and, since Ulla had died, he had not grown accustomed to dealing with it.
If he wanted the boy to move, then he should be willing to move.
The push was meant to act as a warning. It was supposed to make the man realise that Mihail wasn’t beyond using force, despite his size. It should have told him that he had not addressed himself as a Thanasi for no reason but, rather, that the title came with the threat of force. But it did nothing. It did not convince the older kid to move away. Instead, it had the opposite effect. He maintained his unnecessarily cruel words, making movements obviously designed to make him look larger and more threatening. And he did, enough so that Mihail could feel those small tears welling in the corners of his eyes that always showed up when he knew he didn’t want them, as if he was nothing more than the baby this boy called him. It made him feel useless, and that made him feel angry, and he had learned from his sisters that it was no use making a Thanasi angry. Probably, it was the most dangerous thing anyone could do, and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin their legacy by being too pathetic. He had to fight, even though he was scared and he only wanted to run and find Nethis again and tell her that he didn’t like court and he wanted to go home and be nothing more than the youngest of the family again without having to think about navigating the social scene of adults.
“Fine,” he found himself saying instead, tone back to something relatively more confident and doing his absolute best not to let that awkward stutter of his slip through again as it often threatened. He wasn’t entirely sure what his plan of attack was, but a push seemed good enough. The warning push had not been enough, perhaps, but he was not as weak as he looked, and he could do better. If anything, Mihail had reasonably strong arms from the seven years of archery he had practised thus far, and he could muster more strength if he tried. “I warned you.”
The Thanasi pressed his hands against the boy’s chest again, taking a step forwards with the movement to maximise its intensity as best he could, eyes narrowed into a clear glare that he thought would make Nethis proud. He pushed him back as harshly as he could possibly manage, trying to bring up all the strength he had, far more powerfully than his previous attempt. It felt rather successful, though he thought the addition of a few dramatic words would only add to the moment. “If I say move, then you move! Now!”
Az
Mihail
Az
Mihail
Awards
First Impressions:Slim; Broken nose, piercing gaze, red-painted nails.
Address: Your His Lordship
This was not working out the way Mihail wanted and that was categorically not fair. People did not usually tell him ‘no’, and they did not usually treat him as a child. Even with his younger-looking features — he had not yet grown into those harsh Thanasi features that were noticeably present if not yet fully developed: his cheekbones were not yet past their puffy state and his walk continued to possess a little stumble that had not come into its own — they did not usually treat him so condescendingly, afraid of Thanasi wrath or some other unknown force. When he wanted, people often gave, and even on those occasions when his oldest sister did not, then there were two others who were frequently more considerate. He did not like rejection, and, since Ulla had died, he had not grown accustomed to dealing with it.
If he wanted the boy to move, then he should be willing to move.
The push was meant to act as a warning. It was supposed to make the man realise that Mihail wasn’t beyond using force, despite his size. It should have told him that he had not addressed himself as a Thanasi for no reason but, rather, that the title came with the threat of force. But it did nothing. It did not convince the older kid to move away. Instead, it had the opposite effect. He maintained his unnecessarily cruel words, making movements obviously designed to make him look larger and more threatening. And he did, enough so that Mihail could feel those small tears welling in the corners of his eyes that always showed up when he knew he didn’t want them, as if he was nothing more than the baby this boy called him. It made him feel useless, and that made him feel angry, and he had learned from his sisters that it was no use making a Thanasi angry. Probably, it was the most dangerous thing anyone could do, and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin their legacy by being too pathetic. He had to fight, even though he was scared and he only wanted to run and find Nethis again and tell her that he didn’t like court and he wanted to go home and be nothing more than the youngest of the family again without having to think about navigating the social scene of adults.
“Fine,” he found himself saying instead, tone back to something relatively more confident and doing his absolute best not to let that awkward stutter of his slip through again as it often threatened. He wasn’t entirely sure what his plan of attack was, but a push seemed good enough. The warning push had not been enough, perhaps, but he was not as weak as he looked, and he could do better. If anything, Mihail had reasonably strong arms from the seven years of archery he had practised thus far, and he could muster more strength if he tried. “I warned you.”
The Thanasi pressed his hands against the boy’s chest again, taking a step forwards with the movement to maximise its intensity as best he could, eyes narrowed into a clear glare that he thought would make Nethis proud. He pushed him back as harshly as he could possibly manage, trying to bring up all the strength he had, far more powerfully than his previous attempt. It felt rather successful, though he thought the addition of a few dramatic words would only add to the moment. “If I say move, then you move! Now!”
This was not working out the way Mihail wanted and that was categorically not fair. People did not usually tell him ‘no’, and they did not usually treat him as a child. Even with his younger-looking features — he had not yet grown into those harsh Thanasi features that were noticeably present if not yet fully developed: his cheekbones were not yet past their puffy state and his walk continued to possess a little stumble that had not come into its own — they did not usually treat him so condescendingly, afraid of Thanasi wrath or some other unknown force. When he wanted, people often gave, and even on those occasions when his oldest sister did not, then there were two others who were frequently more considerate. He did not like rejection, and, since Ulla had died, he had not grown accustomed to dealing with it.
If he wanted the boy to move, then he should be willing to move.
The push was meant to act as a warning. It was supposed to make the man realise that Mihail wasn’t beyond using force, despite his size. It should have told him that he had not addressed himself as a Thanasi for no reason but, rather, that the title came with the threat of force. But it did nothing. It did not convince the older kid to move away. Instead, it had the opposite effect. He maintained his unnecessarily cruel words, making movements obviously designed to make him look larger and more threatening. And he did, enough so that Mihail could feel those small tears welling in the corners of his eyes that always showed up when he knew he didn’t want them, as if he was nothing more than the baby this boy called him. It made him feel useless, and that made him feel angry, and he had learned from his sisters that it was no use making a Thanasi angry. Probably, it was the most dangerous thing anyone could do, and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin their legacy by being too pathetic. He had to fight, even though he was scared and he only wanted to run and find Nethis again and tell her that he didn’t like court and he wanted to go home and be nothing more than the youngest of the family again without having to think about navigating the social scene of adults.
“Fine,” he found himself saying instead, tone back to something relatively more confident and doing his absolute best not to let that awkward stutter of his slip through again as it often threatened. He wasn’t entirely sure what his plan of attack was, but a push seemed good enough. The warning push had not been enough, perhaps, but he was not as weak as he looked, and he could do better. If anything, Mihail had reasonably strong arms from the seven years of archery he had practised thus far, and he could muster more strength if he tried. “I warned you.”
The Thanasi pressed his hands against the boy’s chest again, taking a step forwards with the movement to maximise its intensity as best he could, eyes narrowed into a clear glare that he thought would make Nethis proud. He pushed him back as harshly as he could possibly manage, trying to bring up all the strength he had, far more powerfully than his previous attempt. It felt rather successful, though he thought the addition of a few dramatic words would only add to the moment. “If I say move, then you move! Now!”
When the whiny little Thanasi answered his challenge without bursting into tears, Mikael was almost impressed. Almost. Rather than being able to enjoy ogling the asses of noble ladies in the Colchian court, he was left to deal with this pipsqueak. It was ridiculous. He expected the whelp to run off and cry knowing that he would not win this battle, and the longer the exchange went on, the angrier Mikael became. He could feel a burn on the back of his neck — rage — and it quickly grew to be more than what he could ignore.
Maybe, if he were without an audience, he would have shown this so-called man some mercy. But he could not let some scrawny, awkward-looking Thanasi push him around.
Not in front of a crowd that would never let him forget it if he backed down now.
He was laughing before Mihail uttered out his words of warning. This surely was all a joke. How could it not be? What idiot would come up to him of all people — a known brawler — and try to order him around like some slave? In fact, he was looking back at his cronies when he was pushed far harder than he thought the little runt could manage. He stumbled back a few steps, fully unprepared for the strength the boy possessed. His reaction is quick. In an instant, his hand was balled into a fist and slammed directly into the nose of the Thanasi boy, accompanied by a sickening crunch.
He didn’t feel the pain in his hand nor did he hear the sudden quiet in the room.
He didn’t even realize he was on top of Mihail, punching as hard as he possibly could. “You! Stupid! Little! Cur!” He shouted, louder and louder until his friends forcibly dragged him off of the boy and held him back.
“Next time I’ll break your teeth!”
Ché
Mikael
Ché
Mikael
Awards
First Impressions:Sturdy; Reddish brown hair, furious blue eyes, and a near constantly bruised lip.
Address: Your His Lordship
When the whiny little Thanasi answered his challenge without bursting into tears, Mikael was almost impressed. Almost. Rather than being able to enjoy ogling the asses of noble ladies in the Colchian court, he was left to deal with this pipsqueak. It was ridiculous. He expected the whelp to run off and cry knowing that he would not win this battle, and the longer the exchange went on, the angrier Mikael became. He could feel a burn on the back of his neck — rage — and it quickly grew to be more than what he could ignore.
Maybe, if he were without an audience, he would have shown this so-called man some mercy. But he could not let some scrawny, awkward-looking Thanasi push him around.
Not in front of a crowd that would never let him forget it if he backed down now.
He was laughing before Mihail uttered out his words of warning. This surely was all a joke. How could it not be? What idiot would come up to him of all people — a known brawler — and try to order him around like some slave? In fact, he was looking back at his cronies when he was pushed far harder than he thought the little runt could manage. He stumbled back a few steps, fully unprepared for the strength the boy possessed. His reaction is quick. In an instant, his hand was balled into a fist and slammed directly into the nose of the Thanasi boy, accompanied by a sickening crunch.
He didn’t feel the pain in his hand nor did he hear the sudden quiet in the room.
He didn’t even realize he was on top of Mihail, punching as hard as he possibly could. “You! Stupid! Little! Cur!” He shouted, louder and louder until his friends forcibly dragged him off of the boy and held him back.
“Next time I’ll break your teeth!”
When the whiny little Thanasi answered his challenge without bursting into tears, Mikael was almost impressed. Almost. Rather than being able to enjoy ogling the asses of noble ladies in the Colchian court, he was left to deal with this pipsqueak. It was ridiculous. He expected the whelp to run off and cry knowing that he would not win this battle, and the longer the exchange went on, the angrier Mikael became. He could feel a burn on the back of his neck — rage — and it quickly grew to be more than what he could ignore.
Maybe, if he were without an audience, he would have shown this so-called man some mercy. But he could not let some scrawny, awkward-looking Thanasi push him around.
Not in front of a crowd that would never let him forget it if he backed down now.
He was laughing before Mihail uttered out his words of warning. This surely was all a joke. How could it not be? What idiot would come up to him of all people — a known brawler — and try to order him around like some slave? In fact, he was looking back at his cronies when he was pushed far harder than he thought the little runt could manage. He stumbled back a few steps, fully unprepared for the strength the boy possessed. His reaction is quick. In an instant, his hand was balled into a fist and slammed directly into the nose of the Thanasi boy, accompanied by a sickening crunch.
He didn’t feel the pain in his hand nor did he hear the sudden quiet in the room.
He didn’t even realize he was on top of Mihail, punching as hard as he possibly could. “You! Stupid! Little! Cur!” He shouted, louder and louder until his friends forcibly dragged him off of the boy and held him back.
“Next time I’ll break your teeth!”
To say the reaction Mihail received was unexpected would have been an understatement.
The young Thanasi stared up at the older boy, the confidence that still radiated from him overwhelming even though he wasn’t sure he felt all that confident anymore. The push didn’t seem to have done anything except make him angry, and anger was not a result he wanted. Because anger came with consequences, and it was a consequence Mihail barely had a chance to register when a hand came flying into his face and connected with his nose. There was a resounding CRACK! — so loud that it frightened Mihail immediately — and then the pain began, an awful terrible pain that seemed like it was eating up his entire face. He couldn’t feel his nose, which he had never thought himself able to feel before but now was acutely aware of a numbness, and there wasn’t time to try and feel anything else because, in an instant, the older boy had thrown him backwards and started punching harder and harder and harder.
By the time the boy was pulled away by his friends, Mihail was certain his face was nothing more than a mass of blood and tears, his pitiful sniffs heavy because he found he couldn’t breathe properly and his fearful gulps difficult because his throat felt like it was full of liquid. Someone helped him up in an awkward stumble that did not speak to his more usual Thanasi grace, and his eyes were wide behind the swelling that had already begun around his features.
“Y-y…” he tried to say, his words intended to form some harsh reprimand about how his Dynasteía did not take lightly to insults, but nothing more came out than the awkward stutter, and then he was overcome by pain again and found himself starting to crumple. His nose was bleeding, and his lip was bleeding, and everywhere he looked there was blood. So much blood. And though he did not mind the sight in another — privately, he relished it, though he had only shared the thought with Nethis — the knowledge that it was his own made his face shift a shade paler than it naturally was even beneath the heavy bruising, and he felt a lightness in his head, and his eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground again.
When he came to a mere moment later, his eyes languidly opening where he lay crumpled in his sister’s arms for not the first time in his pitiful life, he should have been pleased by the sight before him. And perhaps he was, in a sense, but his body was too broken in the moment to feel very much of anything that wasn’t pain, and it took everything to curve his lips into a small smile at the vision of the older boy being escorted out of the hall by a group of guards. It was a victory, of sorts, and like most that Mihail would likely go on to enjoy in his lifetime, it was one enacted primarily by means of somebody else.
The words hurt to say, but he could not resist. “It serves you right for attacking a Tha-Thanasi.”
Az
Mihail
Az
Mihail
Awards
First Impressions:Slim; Broken nose, piercing gaze, red-painted nails.
Address: Your His Lordship
To say the reaction Mihail received was unexpected would have been an understatement.
The young Thanasi stared up at the older boy, the confidence that still radiated from him overwhelming even though he wasn’t sure he felt all that confident anymore. The push didn’t seem to have done anything except make him angry, and anger was not a result he wanted. Because anger came with consequences, and it was a consequence Mihail barely had a chance to register when a hand came flying into his face and connected with his nose. There was a resounding CRACK! — so loud that it frightened Mihail immediately — and then the pain began, an awful terrible pain that seemed like it was eating up his entire face. He couldn’t feel his nose, which he had never thought himself able to feel before but now was acutely aware of a numbness, and there wasn’t time to try and feel anything else because, in an instant, the older boy had thrown him backwards and started punching harder and harder and harder.
By the time the boy was pulled away by his friends, Mihail was certain his face was nothing more than a mass of blood and tears, his pitiful sniffs heavy because he found he couldn’t breathe properly and his fearful gulps difficult because his throat felt like it was full of liquid. Someone helped him up in an awkward stumble that did not speak to his more usual Thanasi grace, and his eyes were wide behind the swelling that had already begun around his features.
“Y-y…” he tried to say, his words intended to form some harsh reprimand about how his Dynasteía did not take lightly to insults, but nothing more came out than the awkward stutter, and then he was overcome by pain again and found himself starting to crumple. His nose was bleeding, and his lip was bleeding, and everywhere he looked there was blood. So much blood. And though he did not mind the sight in another — privately, he relished it, though he had only shared the thought with Nethis — the knowledge that it was his own made his face shift a shade paler than it naturally was even beneath the heavy bruising, and he felt a lightness in his head, and his eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground again.
When he came to a mere moment later, his eyes languidly opening where he lay crumpled in his sister’s arms for not the first time in his pitiful life, he should have been pleased by the sight before him. And perhaps he was, in a sense, but his body was too broken in the moment to feel very much of anything that wasn’t pain, and it took everything to curve his lips into a small smile at the vision of the older boy being escorted out of the hall by a group of guards. It was a victory, of sorts, and like most that Mihail would likely go on to enjoy in his lifetime, it was one enacted primarily by means of somebody else.
The words hurt to say, but he could not resist. “It serves you right for attacking a Tha-Thanasi.”
To say the reaction Mihail received was unexpected would have been an understatement.
The young Thanasi stared up at the older boy, the confidence that still radiated from him overwhelming even though he wasn’t sure he felt all that confident anymore. The push didn’t seem to have done anything except make him angry, and anger was not a result he wanted. Because anger came with consequences, and it was a consequence Mihail barely had a chance to register when a hand came flying into his face and connected with his nose. There was a resounding CRACK! — so loud that it frightened Mihail immediately — and then the pain began, an awful terrible pain that seemed like it was eating up his entire face. He couldn’t feel his nose, which he had never thought himself able to feel before but now was acutely aware of a numbness, and there wasn’t time to try and feel anything else because, in an instant, the older boy had thrown him backwards and started punching harder and harder and harder.
By the time the boy was pulled away by his friends, Mihail was certain his face was nothing more than a mass of blood and tears, his pitiful sniffs heavy because he found he couldn’t breathe properly and his fearful gulps difficult because his throat felt like it was full of liquid. Someone helped him up in an awkward stumble that did not speak to his more usual Thanasi grace, and his eyes were wide behind the swelling that had already begun around his features.
“Y-y…” he tried to say, his words intended to form some harsh reprimand about how his Dynasteía did not take lightly to insults, but nothing more came out than the awkward stutter, and then he was overcome by pain again and found himself starting to crumple. His nose was bleeding, and his lip was bleeding, and everywhere he looked there was blood. So much blood. And though he did not mind the sight in another — privately, he relished it, though he had only shared the thought with Nethis — the knowledge that it was his own made his face shift a shade paler than it naturally was even beneath the heavy bruising, and he felt a lightness in his head, and his eyes rolled back, and he fell to the ground again.
When he came to a mere moment later, his eyes languidly opening where he lay crumpled in his sister’s arms for not the first time in his pitiful life, he should have been pleased by the sight before him. And perhaps he was, in a sense, but his body was too broken in the moment to feel very much of anything that wasn’t pain, and it took everything to curve his lips into a small smile at the vision of the older boy being escorted out of the hall by a group of guards. It was a victory, of sorts, and like most that Mihail would likely go on to enjoy in his lifetime, it was one enacted primarily by means of somebody else.
The words hurt to say, but he could not resist. “It serves you right for attacking a Tha-Thanasi.”
