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Entry tags:
PARTIES
Fandom: Fable (mostly III but mentions of II as well)
Character(s): Reaver, Logan, Sparrow (Hero of Bowerstone)
Word Count: 1,181
Summary: Reaver's never liked Sparrow's parties, but maybe he can find a bit of entertainment this time.
Notes: I'm not good at writing Reaver, but I tried.
I’ve never liked balls, Sparrow had told him once. They’re boring, a waste of time. But he always insists on them. Says the kids should have a “proper” upbringing. From the disdain that had colored her words, it was obvious Sparrow’s upbringing had been anything but “proper”. But she always had been weak to her husband (Steve? Steven? Stephan? something like that, he couldn’t be bothered to remember) and it’s no surprise that she’s still throwing balls, even years after his death.
“He would’ve liked it,” She grunts when he presses her about it.
“Most likely.” Bowerstone Castle is decked out in green and gold, colors he’s never associated with Sparrow but colors she’s picked for the interior anyway. In his esteemed opinion, it’s horribly gaudy. Red and gold would suit her better, or maybe blue…?
“Go save Logan,” The queen looks like she’s trying very hard not to roll her eyes. “Poor boy shouldn’t be hugging the walls at his own birthday party.”
Reaver chuckles and waves a hand. “What an amusing joke, my dear. I was so certain I warned you not to assume I’d assist you with your child-rearing!” He taps a black gloved finger to his chin as he glances down at her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten, hmm?”
Queen Sparrow’s dark eyes flick up to him for a moment before returning to her son. She’s entirely too stiff on her throne, but it does look like a very uncomfortable chair. “Don’t try my patience, Reaver.” She doesn’t sound like she’s joking. How dull.
“And why should I rescue your son from his own crushing awkwardness?” Reaver asks, tone indicating that he’s obviously humoring her.
“You’ll find it fun. He’s a good dancer once you pry him from the wall.”
Reaver opens his mouth to make a terribly crass joke, but she’s faster. The queen shoves him and were he not a Hero of Skill, he might not have been fast enough to catch himself before he tripped over the stairs leading down to the open ballroom floor. But he is fast enough and she only looks a little disappointed when he doesn’t fall.
“Oh my dear... You really are serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Just go.”
Whatever’s set Sparrow in a bad mood isn’t really any of his business (and it’s not like he cares either) but he’ll be able to sneak out of here early if he humors her for a bit longer. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the parties Sparrow throws (even if he does make a point to show up to them, if he’s in the country anyway) but he’s had a soft spot for her since their adventures fifty years ago. What a thorn in his side she was back then! Ah, such wonderful memories.
Sparrow’s elder child is Logan, a tall, awkward boy who is probably in his late teens by now. He’s got his arms folded over his chest, his outfit (prince’s clothes, purple) perfectly pressed. He takes after his mother in looks - he’s got her dark eyes and hair, though his angular face is more reminiscent of his father’s. Then there’s his height - the boy’s easily six feet already and he towers over his mother. He wouldn’t be all that bad-looking, if Reaver had any interest in the stoic, dour type. He doesn’t. Not even to fluster Sparrow.
(Or maybe he respects her a bit too much to do anything quite that underhanded.)
(No, that certainly isn’t it!)
“My, my, look at you.” Reaver coos condescendingly as he approaches. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you! Shot up like a weed, really.”
The prince glances up and starts before withdrawing a bit, as though he has anywhere to go. He doesn’t. The wall is his only escape. “R-Reaver, sir,” He gasps before quickly composing the surprise into the usual steely-eyed stare. He’s gotten better at that. Not perfect, of course, but it’s hard to top Sparrow. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”
“Oh, your mother didn’t inform you?” He clicks his tongue and glances in Sparrow’s direction. What reason could she have for that…? She’s not even looking over at him. “Well, she sent me to collect you. The walls will stay standing even if you aren’t here to guard them.”
“I was just—” The prince starts and Reaver cuts him off with a laugh.
“Show me what you’ve learned.”
Logan hesitates for only a moment longer before taking Reaver’s hand. Reaver doesn’t have any problems allowing the teenager to lead, but he does watch their feet for a moment to make sure the boy won’t trample all over his. These are expensive shoes and he’d hate for anything to happen to them.
Surprisingly, Sparrow isn’t wrong about her son. He’s actually quite skilled and he follows the music well. “Loosen up,” Reaver advises as he taps his fingers against Logan’s shoulder to get his attention, “and look me in the eyes. You don’t need to stare at the floor.”
The prince does just that for a fraction of a second before he colors and glances away. Reaver sighs, but he doesn’t have the patience to try to teach the boy further. The song will end soon and he can make his escape after all, why prolong it any?
It’s quiet for a moment - the sort of quiet that Reaver’s never really liked due to the immense awkwardness of it, but it’s a nice reprieve from the rest of the night. It almost gets boring flirting with everyone in sight when he’s so familiar with all of these faces. They’re dull, almost as dull as his darling Sparrow. Perhaps in a few years Logan will actually be amusing, but by then he might be the King of Albion and that certainly won’t be fun.
“Master Reaver,” The boy interrupts his thoughts and Reaver glances back down at him. “Thank you for coming.” Logan’s still pink, but it almost looks like he’s happy. The kid could certainly learn to smile. It probably wouldn’t hurt him.
“I had nothing better to do today.” He responds with a brief shrug as the song ends.
“Still, it…” Logan hesitates. Shakes his head. Starts over. “It means a lot to me, sir. Thank you.” He ducks his head a bit in a bow, which is more respect than Sparrow has ever shown him.
He can feel the corner of his lips quirk upward a bit in response. “Such proper manners! Someday you may make a fine king.” And with that he laughs and pulls his hands from the boy’s to wave. “Do try to entertain your guests, won’t you? You wouldn’t want to leave that to your mother!”
There’s a brief moment where Logan looks a bit horrified, as if saying anything bad about his mother is some kind of grave sin. Then he glances in her direction. “Well,” He starts quietly, “I wouldn’t want anyone to have to listen to her complain for too long.”
It gets Reaver to laugh, anyway. Maybe the prince isn’t a lost cause after all.
Character(s): Reaver, Logan, Sparrow (Hero of Bowerstone)
Word Count: 1,181
Summary: Reaver's never liked Sparrow's parties, but maybe he can find a bit of entertainment this time.
Notes: I'm not good at writing Reaver, but I tried.
I’ve never liked balls, Sparrow had told him once. They’re boring, a waste of time. But he always insists on them. Says the kids should have a “proper” upbringing. From the disdain that had colored her words, it was obvious Sparrow’s upbringing had been anything but “proper”. But she always had been weak to her husband (Steve? Steven? Stephan? something like that, he couldn’t be bothered to remember) and it’s no surprise that she’s still throwing balls, even years after his death.
“He would’ve liked it,” She grunts when he presses her about it.
“Most likely.” Bowerstone Castle is decked out in green and gold, colors he’s never associated with Sparrow but colors she’s picked for the interior anyway. In his esteemed opinion, it’s horribly gaudy. Red and gold would suit her better, or maybe blue…?
“Go save Logan,” The queen looks like she’s trying very hard not to roll her eyes. “Poor boy shouldn’t be hugging the walls at his own birthday party.”
Reaver chuckles and waves a hand. “What an amusing joke, my dear. I was so certain I warned you not to assume I’d assist you with your child-rearing!” He taps a black gloved finger to his chin as he glances down at her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten, hmm?”
Queen Sparrow’s dark eyes flick up to him for a moment before returning to her son. She’s entirely too stiff on her throne, but it does look like a very uncomfortable chair. “Don’t try my patience, Reaver.” She doesn’t sound like she’s joking. How dull.
“And why should I rescue your son from his own crushing awkwardness?” Reaver asks, tone indicating that he’s obviously humoring her.
“You’ll find it fun. He’s a good dancer once you pry him from the wall.”
Reaver opens his mouth to make a terribly crass joke, but she’s faster. The queen shoves him and were he not a Hero of Skill, he might not have been fast enough to catch himself before he tripped over the stairs leading down to the open ballroom floor. But he is fast enough and she only looks a little disappointed when he doesn’t fall.
“Oh my dear... You really are serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Just go.”
Whatever’s set Sparrow in a bad mood isn’t really any of his business (and it’s not like he cares either) but he’ll be able to sneak out of here early if he humors her for a bit longer. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the parties Sparrow throws (even if he does make a point to show up to them, if he’s in the country anyway) but he’s had a soft spot for her since their adventures fifty years ago. What a thorn in his side she was back then! Ah, such wonderful memories.
Sparrow’s elder child is Logan, a tall, awkward boy who is probably in his late teens by now. He’s got his arms folded over his chest, his outfit (prince’s clothes, purple) perfectly pressed. He takes after his mother in looks - he’s got her dark eyes and hair, though his angular face is more reminiscent of his father’s. Then there’s his height - the boy’s easily six feet already and he towers over his mother. He wouldn’t be all that bad-looking, if Reaver had any interest in the stoic, dour type. He doesn’t. Not even to fluster Sparrow.
(Or maybe he respects her a bit too much to do anything quite that underhanded.)
(No, that certainly isn’t it!)
“My, my, look at you.” Reaver coos condescendingly as he approaches. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you! Shot up like a weed, really.”
The prince glances up and starts before withdrawing a bit, as though he has anywhere to go. He doesn’t. The wall is his only escape. “R-Reaver, sir,” He gasps before quickly composing the surprise into the usual steely-eyed stare. He’s gotten better at that. Not perfect, of course, but it’s hard to top Sparrow. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”
“Oh, your mother didn’t inform you?” He clicks his tongue and glances in Sparrow’s direction. What reason could she have for that…? She’s not even looking over at him. “Well, she sent me to collect you. The walls will stay standing even if you aren’t here to guard them.”
“I was just—” The prince starts and Reaver cuts him off with a laugh.
“Show me what you’ve learned.”
Logan hesitates for only a moment longer before taking Reaver’s hand. Reaver doesn’t have any problems allowing the teenager to lead, but he does watch their feet for a moment to make sure the boy won’t trample all over his. These are expensive shoes and he’d hate for anything to happen to them.
Surprisingly, Sparrow isn’t wrong about her son. He’s actually quite skilled and he follows the music well. “Loosen up,” Reaver advises as he taps his fingers against Logan’s shoulder to get his attention, “and look me in the eyes. You don’t need to stare at the floor.”
The prince does just that for a fraction of a second before he colors and glances away. Reaver sighs, but he doesn’t have the patience to try to teach the boy further. The song will end soon and he can make his escape after all, why prolong it any?
It’s quiet for a moment - the sort of quiet that Reaver’s never really liked due to the immense awkwardness of it, but it’s a nice reprieve from the rest of the night. It almost gets boring flirting with everyone in sight when he’s so familiar with all of these faces. They’re dull, almost as dull as his darling Sparrow. Perhaps in a few years Logan will actually be amusing, but by then he might be the King of Albion and that certainly won’t be fun.
“Master Reaver,” The boy interrupts his thoughts and Reaver glances back down at him. “Thank you for coming.” Logan’s still pink, but it almost looks like he’s happy. The kid could certainly learn to smile. It probably wouldn’t hurt him.
“I had nothing better to do today.” He responds with a brief shrug as the song ends.
“Still, it…” Logan hesitates. Shakes his head. Starts over. “It means a lot to me, sir. Thank you.” He ducks his head a bit in a bow, which is more respect than Sparrow has ever shown him.
He can feel the corner of his lips quirk upward a bit in response. “Such proper manners! Someday you may make a fine king.” And with that he laughs and pulls his hands from the boy’s to wave. “Do try to entertain your guests, won’t you? You wouldn’t want to leave that to your mother!”
There’s a brief moment where Logan looks a bit horrified, as if saying anything bad about his mother is some kind of grave sin. Then he glances in her direction. “Well,” He starts quietly, “I wouldn’t want anyone to have to listen to her complain for too long.”
It gets Reaver to laugh, anyway. Maybe the prince isn’t a lost cause after all.