Mind Your Manners
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| ebfhe | OOC Notes: Banner by Chatt Auclair | Backdated: November 1st, 2023 | Location: Ikonen Estate, Finland | Mentions: @Elisei Mikhailov | WC: 1278 | hvhjvhvje |
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Invitations arrived as all such things did. An envelope bearing the deep emerald wax stamp of the Ikonen family containing the right to exercise one’s privilege that came with being some of the wealthiest wizarding families whose lineage stretched deep into the frostbitten north was delivered courteously by owl. In the bleak midwinter, numerous pure-blooded wizarding families would travel to the ancient Ikonen estate nestled deep in the dark pines and frozen lakes of Sodankylä for a luxurious evening of galivanting that was only capable by people who had too much money than what they knew what to do with. And for political peacekeeping, of course. It mattered little to the boy who’d recently met his ninth winter. Kullervo's parents would talk about adult things that he was not privy to, nor of which he would care enough about to try to understand. To him, it just meant getting to flaunt his favourite seasonal ensembles, steal half of the finger foods for himself, and avoid his cheek-pinching Auntie Tyyne at all costs. He’d chosen a piece that would command guests’ attention. Like ink on paper, his ensemble would tell the tales that were etched into his very veins. The dark fur-lined overcoat draped over his slender shoulders, the interior lining hinting at something more luxurious beneath the austerity. The tailoring becomes more intricate underneath, the finely textured waistcoat is cut with a severe precision, embroidered with delicate silk patterns. It cinched a high-collared undershirt paired with a cravat, softening his otherwise dainty silhouette. His trousers were equally cleanly tailored, however took no attention away from the rest of the piece. He’d had it made in Italy, such a craft far beyond the expertise of any local tailor. It’s a shame the boy would outgrow it come summer before he was presented the opportunity to wear it again. But much akin to a snake shedding its skin to reemerge with its new scales, Kullervo will, by then, have adopted a new layer of personality that will suddenly decide he no longer appreciated such a fashion. But first, he must get through his mother and her weapon of choosing. A hairbrush. “Äiti! Mother!”He whined as his mother, Ainikki, abused his scalp with the brush, almost bringing the boy to tears as she worked out the knots in his hair. He could very well do it himself and he intended to, he just thinks his mother wanted to set him in a foul mood before the event even begun. “Silence, Kullervo.” She said sharply as she wiped the glossiness away from his eyes with her thumb, ripping a pitiful pout from him. One raised eyebrow was enough to make sure that expression of his was eradicated by the time she was done with him, and he went off with his neat pin-straight hair into the central hall, where guests had already begun flooding into the manor and greeted by the servants. Kullervo wasn’t too fond of the crowd but still offered measured inclines of his head when they arrived as it was what he was taught was polite. Even if they were as much intruders of his space as they were viewers of the Ikonen likeness. His family's living space was nothing short of opulent with its titan-high ceilings, thousand-galleon chandeliers, and exalted antiques. It was something Kullervo knew to take much pride in as much as his own image. He behaved as though he didn’t hear whenever someone complimented his ensemble. He already knew he looked good, he didn’t need anyone else to tell him that. Although, he did give dirty looks to a few people when they said something along the lines of “You’re dressed incredibly well for your age, young man” as though he were a child lacking the necessary awareness to understand refined taste. How dare they patronise him. Such arrogance was sickening and he had every right to give them a piece of his mind, yet he refrained. Acting out at events such as this was much more unbecoming of someone of his status than it was to simply let the fools be fools. Kullervo strutted about as if he were the head of the house, taking it upon himself to exercise his authority and swipe a goblet of wine from one of the servants weaving through the people with trays. The boy’s father, Eero, certainly noticed, having tailed him around since he was released from his mother's grooming, knowing better than to let his son run rampant at such an event. Kullervo was lightly yanked back by his father's finger hooking in his collar, then he suddenly found his hand empty of the wine goblet. “Kullervo...” Eero's voice was just short of its usual low tone, a warning masking itself as jest for the sake of the event. The people his father was with even chuckled a little, thinking Kullervo was just cheeky. They clearly did not have children of their own. And they certainly did not have a Kullervo. Kullervo was thoroughly insulted in all of his tiny aggression. They were laughing at him, mocking him, so much so that his cheeks burned with a mix of fury and humiliation. He should have them thrown out of his home and punished. But whining to his father did nothing more than earn him a little shove back out into the crowd, paired with the order to mind his manners and ‘make peace’ with the guests. Kullervo’s frown only deepened as he hmph’d. “Make peace… peace never won any wars...” He grumbled under his breath as he weaved through the fraternising people, gracefully avoiding flailing elbows, the other few children accompanying their parents, and all of the cheek-pinchers. 'If Auntie Tynne is here, so help me…' Kullervo had instead decided to sit at one of the round tables that was positioned off the side but still had a perfect view spanning across the vast hall. He’d leaned back, crossed a leg over the other and thread his hands together on his abdomen, watching everyone with a critical eye as if making sure they wouldn’t steal anything. Not even his mother would be able to stop him if they so much as thought about slipping a single spoon into their purses. Only these sorts of people could be stupid enough to attempt such an offence, and he can’t be too careful, certainly not when his father is yapping away with some horrid Norwegian couple and his mother is… wherever she was. It was incumbent on Kullervo to be the manor’s watchful protector given a lady who wore a dress that looked much younger than the wrinkles on her face had his dogs occupied. They’d be no good during a burglary if they were cozied up next to that prune by the fireplace, and he suspected there'd be a numerous insolent curs attempting to thieve some of their good silverware. Kullervo would be the new watchdog - but not an ugly smush-faced mastiff or obscenely muscular pitbull - more like a doberman, whose poise matched his ferocity. As such, Kullervo was the only one who noticed the sound of the door creaking open for late arrivals to pool in over the music threading through the hubbub of chatter. Rude, he thought. Not only were they invading his home, but they didn’t even have the decency to arrive on time. He was already sneering at the large group, seemingly another wealthy family who entered in groups as though they were of a separate people. And Kullervo kept his hard stare particularly fixed upon the young boy and his parents who’d emerged through those doors after the first few groups. |
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Mind Your Manners
Mind Your Manners
NOTES — Banner made by @Cirrus Mooney, Backdated
TAGS — PV with @Kullervo Ikonen
DATE — November 1st, 2023
LOCATION — Ikonen Estate
WORD COUNT — 1232
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The atmosphere in the Mikhailov family home had never been known as welcoming. It had claws, ones that found ways to sink into your skin from afar, a heavy pressure that came crashing down on any who dared lay eyes on its visage. Still, not even its glooming shroud could hide what Elisei saw every day. Young as he was, he was no fool; the signs all pointed to a change that had occurred without his knowledge, and whatever it was, it changed everything. It manifested in the ways his mother hushed and pushed him away from closed doors, sharing lingering glances with his father as they returned to their chambers. His cousins, the ones who spent stolen moments away from their parents to cause chaos and mischief with him, were steered away from him with sneers, preventing any further contact without supervision.
The house had divided itself into two, and his parents and himself were clearly on the other side of the line that was drawn.
On one frostbitten day, the tension reached its peak. A maid had delivered an envelope to his father, and it was cleanly stamped with wax. It held a symbol—one that reminded him of the Mikhailov family crest—but he looked away before he could clearly see. Elisei wasn’t interested in knowing the details; the formality alone told him what he needed to know. No doubt it was an invitation to some foolish event, and that, once again, he’d be forced to attend.
To his annoyance, he was right. That’s how Elisei found himself standing out in the cold days later, watching with a frown as a carriage approached. Around him, the other members of the family were dressed in extravagance, having laced themselves with the wealth that lined their pockets. The flaunting itself wasn’t remotely out of the norm, but the boy found himself pondering anyway: What was it about this event that triggered their inherent need to mimic a peacock? Why did this gala, whoever it was hosted by, encourage them to dress in the most extreme ways he’d ever seen in eight years?
Nearby, his Aunt Polina had covered herself almost head to toe with jewels. The woman had the nerve to bring out a crown of her own, which was accompanied by the gaudy necklace with gemstones on her neck. Even her wrists were occupied, as they were lined with heavy gold bangles. His cousins weren’t spared from her treatment either, as they were standing off to the side with vaguely hidden expressions of discomfort.
The more his eyes lingered in their direction, the more relieved he felt. Elisei was fortunate, as his parents had clearly disagreed with whatever nonsense was occurring. His mother and himself were dressed in simpler but no less elegant clothing. His father was dressed a bit more finely, but it was nowhere near the extent of extravagance around them.
The line of carriages drew closer, approaching their spot. When the boy finally faced forward, his mother leaned over to fidget with his collar for the nth time in the past hour. It wasn’t long before her hands also began tugging at his vest to adjust it, followed by fixing his slightly wrinkled sleeves.
The sound of his father’s cane grew louder, announcing his arrival to the scene. “Yelena,” the man shook his head in slight disapproval. “Do not fidget with his clothes.” His voice was cold and stony, and the very sound of it grated on the boy’s ears. His mother, always so hyperaware of her actions as his wife, only ceased the restless movements of her hands on his clothing, instead moving to gingerly cup his cheeks. “Bear with it today, мой подсолнух. My sunflower.” she spoke grimly.
Had it been any other gala, he would only take her warning lightheartedly. Elisei preferred to spend these events with newfound friends outside the supervision of the adults, but as he looked closer at the exhaustion and wariness in his mother’s expression, he decided against it. Just for tonight, he had to act as the proper heir he was.
Just tonight, he told himself as he nodded along. “Understood, Матушка. Mother.” That was as good as a promise from a boy like Elisei and, based on the relieved smile that flashed on the woman’s face, it was a truth she knew.
The rest of the carriage ride had been quiet and tense. Part of the journey had been considerably cut short by magical transportation, and it wasn’t long before the sights of a towering manor entered his vision. His Aunt Polina and his cousins had walked ahead, entering through the open doors without a glance in their direction. Unsurprisingly, the ballroom was where the gala was held, and it was filled with unfamiliar faces. There were only a few the boy could recognize, and even then, they were only the faces of nobles he was vaguely familiar with through the stern lessons of his tutor.
Based on the wary glances thrown his way by the children around his age, it seemed that their presence was unprecedented by the occupants. Still, it wasn’t long before the awkwardness of their late arrival passed, and people of many positions approached. Distastefully, Elisei was forced to smile along to their whims, pretending that he wasn’t aware of the motives that motivated them.
The boy hated it. Just the very thought of having to spend hours of tonight putting up this façade made him want to puke, but he ensured that no trace of disgust lingered on his face even as he was crowded with nobles. Instead, he flashed them a familiarly sweet smile, wordlessly taking in their eager introductions without much care. Like sharks drawn to prey¸ he thought to himself, his smile remaining without falter.
“Remarkable poise for a young man,” an older gentleman chuckled out his praise. He looked like he was around the age of Elisei’s own grandfather, and he was accompanied by a beautiful young woman only a bit older than he was. “Your Grace,” she followed her chaperone’s lead with a curtsy, which was shortly followed by an introduction. Elisei didn’t pay much mind to it as envy bloomed in his heart at her innocence. Unlike him, she didn’t seem forced to put on a front, and she seemed unbroken and unfazed by expectations. Perhaps her grandfather was clearly different and simply treated her better.
Whatever the case may be, Elisei no longer wanted to feel the ugly feeling inside him. He turned his head away to glance at a direction where he had been feeling another stare digging into him ever since he had entered.
To his surprise, it wasn’t an adult, but instead, it was a boy around his age. Clearly, he had a staring problem that had gone unchecked, as it continued even as their eyes finally connected. Elisei felt amused; whoever this boy was, he was shameless. He held his head high and proud; his nose practically pointed to the ceiling as he maintained his critical stare. Much like Elisei’s own relatives, he was dressed finely, so he was clearly with some position or power.
The sight of it amused Elisei, and he’s unable to hold back a wolfish grin. He did promise his mother he’d behave for this gala, but perhaps it’ll be easier said than done with this boy around.
The house had divided itself into two, and his parents and himself were clearly on the other side of the line that was drawn.
On one frostbitten day, the tension reached its peak. A maid had delivered an envelope to his father, and it was cleanly stamped with wax. It held a symbol—one that reminded him of the Mikhailov family crest—but he looked away before he could clearly see. Elisei wasn’t interested in knowing the details; the formality alone told him what he needed to know. No doubt it was an invitation to some foolish event, and that, once again, he’d be forced to attend.
To his annoyance, he was right. That’s how Elisei found himself standing out in the cold days later, watching with a frown as a carriage approached. Around him, the other members of the family were dressed in extravagance, having laced themselves with the wealth that lined their pockets. The flaunting itself wasn’t remotely out of the norm, but the boy found himself pondering anyway: What was it about this event that triggered their inherent need to mimic a peacock? Why did this gala, whoever it was hosted by, encourage them to dress in the most extreme ways he’d ever seen in eight years?
Nearby, his Aunt Polina had covered herself almost head to toe with jewels. The woman had the nerve to bring out a crown of her own, which was accompanied by the gaudy necklace with gemstones on her neck. Even her wrists were occupied, as they were lined with heavy gold bangles. His cousins weren’t spared from her treatment either, as they were standing off to the side with vaguely hidden expressions of discomfort.
The more his eyes lingered in their direction, the more relieved he felt. Elisei was fortunate, as his parents had clearly disagreed with whatever nonsense was occurring. His mother and himself were dressed in simpler but no less elegant clothing. His father was dressed a bit more finely, but it was nowhere near the extent of extravagance around them.
The line of carriages drew closer, approaching their spot. When the boy finally faced forward, his mother leaned over to fidget with his collar for the nth time in the past hour. It wasn’t long before her hands also began tugging at his vest to adjust it, followed by fixing his slightly wrinkled sleeves.
The sound of his father’s cane grew louder, announcing his arrival to the scene. “Yelena,” the man shook his head in slight disapproval. “Do not fidget with his clothes.” His voice was cold and stony, and the very sound of it grated on the boy’s ears. His mother, always so hyperaware of her actions as his wife, only ceased the restless movements of her hands on his clothing, instead moving to gingerly cup his cheeks. “Bear with it today, мой подсолнух. My sunflower.” she spoke grimly.
Had it been any other gala, he would only take her warning lightheartedly. Elisei preferred to spend these events with newfound friends outside the supervision of the adults, but as he looked closer at the exhaustion and wariness in his mother’s expression, he decided against it. Just for tonight, he had to act as the proper heir he was.
Just tonight, he told himself as he nodded along. “Understood, Матушка. Mother.” That was as good as a promise from a boy like Elisei and, based on the relieved smile that flashed on the woman’s face, it was a truth she knew.
The rest of the carriage ride had been quiet and tense. Part of the journey had been considerably cut short by magical transportation, and it wasn’t long before the sights of a towering manor entered his vision. His Aunt Polina and his cousins had walked ahead, entering through the open doors without a glance in their direction. Unsurprisingly, the ballroom was where the gala was held, and it was filled with unfamiliar faces. There were only a few the boy could recognize, and even then, they were only the faces of nobles he was vaguely familiar with through the stern lessons of his tutor.
Based on the wary glances thrown his way by the children around his age, it seemed that their presence was unprecedented by the occupants. Still, it wasn’t long before the awkwardness of their late arrival passed, and people of many positions approached. Distastefully, Elisei was forced to smile along to their whims, pretending that he wasn’t aware of the motives that motivated them.
The boy hated it. Just the very thought of having to spend hours of tonight putting up this façade made him want to puke, but he ensured that no trace of disgust lingered on his face even as he was crowded with nobles. Instead, he flashed them a familiarly sweet smile, wordlessly taking in their eager introductions without much care. Like sharks drawn to prey¸ he thought to himself, his smile remaining without falter.
“Remarkable poise for a young man,” an older gentleman chuckled out his praise. He looked like he was around the age of Elisei’s own grandfather, and he was accompanied by a beautiful young woman only a bit older than he was. “Your Grace,” she followed her chaperone’s lead with a curtsy, which was shortly followed by an introduction. Elisei didn’t pay much mind to it as envy bloomed in his heart at her innocence. Unlike him, she didn’t seem forced to put on a front, and she seemed unbroken and unfazed by expectations. Perhaps her grandfather was clearly different and simply treated her better.
Whatever the case may be, Elisei no longer wanted to feel the ugly feeling inside him. He turned his head away to glance at a direction where he had been feeling another stare digging into him ever since he had entered.
To his surprise, it wasn’t an adult, but instead, it was a boy around his age. Clearly, he had a staring problem that had gone unchecked, as it continued even as their eyes finally connected. Elisei felt amused; whoever this boy was, he was shameless. He held his head high and proud; his nose practically pointed to the ceiling as he maintained his critical stare. Much like Elisei’s own relatives, he was dressed finely, so he was clearly with some position or power.
The sight of it amused Elisei, and he’s unable to hold back a wolfish grin. He did promise his mother he’d behave for this gala, but perhaps it’ll be easier said than done with this boy around.
Mind Your Manners
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| ebfhe | OOC Notes: Banner by Chatt Auclair | Backdated: November 1st, 2023 | Location: Ikonen Estate, Finland | Mentions: @Elisei Mikhailov | WC: 733 | hvhjvhvje |
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Kullervo did not like that grin. It was not a polite ‘Hello, good to meet you, thank you for inviting me’ type of grin rehearsed before leaving the house, sweetly worn like perfume to charm all those who surrounded you. It was a direct challenge that presumed him as if mocking his stature. Or as if the boy could see beyond the silk and family name, which was equally as wrong of a guest. And it lingered for far too long, like the after image of staring too long into the fireplace, making his own lips twitch in contempt. Kullervo would not back down. If this was a battle of resolve, the other boy would have arrived unarmed, for Kullervo would remain firm against the cold winds of the challenge. The other boy still retained the glory of innocence, smiling at strangers like that. It was almost unsettling. Did it amuse him to smile when he was not welcome? Kullervo had seen many smiles at many galas to know that anyone who enjoyed themselves at such an event were faking for the sake of courtesy or were so mindless that the simplest things entertained them - these people were a bore. Smiles bought favour and respect. And yet, the smile belonged entirely to himself, no one else was privy to such a currency. The boy had no right. They were not equal. Kullervo uncrossed his legs with calculated composure and rose from his seat, spine straightening with quiet finality, smoothing any traces of emotion from his expression as neatly as pressing wrinkles from silk, and strode back out into the crowd at last. Whatever that look entailed - mockery, curiosity, or something he could not put a name to - it would not go unanswered by Kullervo. Things that went unanswered had a way of festering and he did not permit anything to manifest beyond his jurisdiction. He would match it, pointed nose in the air, glacial eyes fixed on the boy in an assessing manner. If he thought himself so bold to look, then he would soon know what it truly meant to be seen. Kullervo had taken slow steps towards the boy like an apex predator homing in on its prey. But who was truly the prey in this circumstance? Both boys would have very different opinions on the matter. When he came to a stop in front of the boy, Kullervo made no error in his assessment of the smaller stature before him, merciless in full form. He looked down on him, literally and figuratively, and he believed it further exuded his commanding aura, conceived in robed black with an opaque fascination. “You smiled at me.” Kullervo stated, completely skipping introductions as his eyes narrowed at the boy in a suspicious manner, as if he was the suspect of a crime. To Kullervo, he might as well have been guilty. For a fleeting moment, he wished he’d chosen a cane to be part of the ensemble, that way he could press it into the other boy’s boot and make him kneel, a correction that could only be made far beyond the uses of language. He did not blink as he continued, tilting his head slightly in a manner that collapsed condescension with curiosity. “Do I entertain you? Or are you only pretending that I do?” Kullervo believed that people did not do things like that without a reason. Just looking at the crowd around them, laughter and pleasantries flowed like an overly rehearsed performance for the grand play of courteousness, only further enforced his suspicions that this boy was trouble. Everyone wore a mask, who you were beneath mattered little on the stage of life. High society expected you to be someone who you weren’t and if you scream a lie loud enough then someone would believe it, most evident by the frolicking surrounding them - a mere byproduct of the absence of conviction. Acting like that on his own accord, to Kullervo, would be harder than trying not to eat. So why didn’t this boy fall in line like the rest? Why did he choose to leave his facade behind? Kullervo leaned forward, almost touching noses with his inferior counterpart, an act of intimidation or something akin to the idea. “Or is there something you know that makes you think you are fit to behave unbecomingly in my home?” |
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Mind Your Manners
Mind Your Manners
NOTES — Banner made by @Cirrus Mooney, Backdated
TAGS — PV with @Kullervo Ikonen
DATE — November 1st, 2023
LOCATION — Ikonen Estate
WORD COUNT — 704
· · ─────── · 🌣 · ─────── · ·
Amusement bloomed in Elisei’s chest. If a cheeky grin like that could make the other boy bristle like a feline, he could only imagine what else he would be able to do to tease him throughout the night. Innocently, he turned his head away but purposely left it so that the other was still left in his peripheral vision. A good choice, as it was just enough to see that the boy had risen from his seat, feeling challenged.
With nothing much left to do but to wait, Elisei fully turned his attention back to the conversation that had been occurring around him. The young lady who had approached was still chattering about her father’s business, her voice bright and hopeful. Her grandfather nodded along politely as she spoke, but it was evident that his attention was not entirely on the conversation. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the glass in his hand, which held wine. Whoever this man was—Elisei hadn’t bothered to pay attention to their introductions earlier—his eyes were honest. The man wasn’t here for the social connections; he was just here for the wine, and that in of itself was amusing.
By now, his mother had taken to mingling with a few noblewomen a few meters away, smiling as she talked. Father wasn’t with her, but that detail was one that went unsaid. Though his mother was a noblewoman, she was genuine, and events like these let her make a few friends and allies. His father, on the other hand, was only here for connections. No doubt the man had wandered off to seek his purpose, leaving only Elisei trapped in a conversation he had no want to be in.
For once, however, he didn’t have many complaints about being stuck. Not when the other boy was still approaching with a focused intensity.
There’s nowhere more interesting than here, Elisei thought. Not when there’s a spoiled kid I could bother.
Based on how the other was dressed, the word ‘spoiled’ may not be enough to describe him. The fur-lined overcoat with its interior lining, the high collar with an obnoxious cravat, and a waistcoat with silk; all of it pointed towards the image of a boy who saw himself as royalty. Pairing this with the way he practically strutted towards him in judgement, this gala was no doubt an environment he thrived in.
It just so happened that Elisei’s presence had disrupted it.
As the other boy—still unknown to him, but Elisei was tempted to call him a nickname by now—finally came to a stop in front of their huddle, the difference in height became all the clearer, especially with the way he stared daggers into him from above.
“You smiled at me.” The boy spoke coldly, his eyes narrowed. There was no hesitation nor was there an introduction. “Do I entertain you? Or are you only pretending that I do?”
Elisei, still thoroughly amused, wasn’t even able to answer before he spoke again, intentionally disrupting his chance to speak. The other boy had leaned forward, almost touching noses with him.
“Or is there something you know that makes you think you are fit to behave unbecomingly in my home?”
It was an interesting way of intimidation, to say the least. To Elisei, an act like this was only amusement, but it was certainly a scene that looked strange from afar. The fact that no one had intervened told him another fascinating detail: whoever this boy was, he had power. It showed in the way nobody had dared to interrupt, instead opting to stare intensely at a brawl between two children.
Spoiled as this boy may be, he had the means to back himself—and his flaunting—up.
“Me, my lord? Of course not. How would I know such a thing? I’m merely a guest.” Elisei flashed him a smile that reeked of innocence, but the playfulness lingered. Stepping back, he bowed halfheartedly at the waist. “Good evening. It seems that the higher beings have blessed me with your presence today. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Not even waiting for a response, he straightened himself up, staring at the taller boy with an unfaltering grin.
With nothing much left to do but to wait, Elisei fully turned his attention back to the conversation that had been occurring around him. The young lady who had approached was still chattering about her father’s business, her voice bright and hopeful. Her grandfather nodded along politely as she spoke, but it was evident that his attention was not entirely on the conversation. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the glass in his hand, which held wine. Whoever this man was—Elisei hadn’t bothered to pay attention to their introductions earlier—his eyes were honest. The man wasn’t here for the social connections; he was just here for the wine, and that in of itself was amusing.
By now, his mother had taken to mingling with a few noblewomen a few meters away, smiling as she talked. Father wasn’t with her, but that detail was one that went unsaid. Though his mother was a noblewoman, she was genuine, and events like these let her make a few friends and allies. His father, on the other hand, was only here for connections. No doubt the man had wandered off to seek his purpose, leaving only Elisei trapped in a conversation he had no want to be in.
For once, however, he didn’t have many complaints about being stuck. Not when the other boy was still approaching with a focused intensity.
There’s nowhere more interesting than here, Elisei thought. Not when there’s a spoiled kid I could bother.
Based on how the other was dressed, the word ‘spoiled’ may not be enough to describe him. The fur-lined overcoat with its interior lining, the high collar with an obnoxious cravat, and a waistcoat with silk; all of it pointed towards the image of a boy who saw himself as royalty. Pairing this with the way he practically strutted towards him in judgement, this gala was no doubt an environment he thrived in.
It just so happened that Elisei’s presence had disrupted it.
As the other boy—still unknown to him, but Elisei was tempted to call him a nickname by now—finally came to a stop in front of their huddle, the difference in height became all the clearer, especially with the way he stared daggers into him from above.
“You smiled at me.” The boy spoke coldly, his eyes narrowed. There was no hesitation nor was there an introduction. “Do I entertain you? Or are you only pretending that I do?”
Elisei, still thoroughly amused, wasn’t even able to answer before he spoke again, intentionally disrupting his chance to speak. The other boy had leaned forward, almost touching noses with him.
“Or is there something you know that makes you think you are fit to behave unbecomingly in my home?”
It was an interesting way of intimidation, to say the least. To Elisei, an act like this was only amusement, but it was certainly a scene that looked strange from afar. The fact that no one had intervened told him another fascinating detail: whoever this boy was, he had power. It showed in the way nobody had dared to interrupt, instead opting to stare intensely at a brawl between two children.
Spoiled as this boy may be, he had the means to back himself—and his flaunting—up.
“Me, my lord? Of course not. How would I know such a thing? I’m merely a guest.” Elisei flashed him a smile that reeked of innocence, but the playfulness lingered. Stepping back, he bowed halfheartedly at the waist. “Good evening. It seems that the higher beings have blessed me with your presence today. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Not even waiting for a response, he straightened himself up, staring at the taller boy with an unfaltering grin.
Mind Your Manners
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| ebfhe | OOC Notes: Banner by Chatt Auclair | Backdated: November 1st, 2023 | Location: Ikonen Estate, Finland | Mentions: @Elisei Mikhailov | WC: 834 | hvhjvhvje |
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Kullervo didn’t immediately react to the bow, he simply watched at first. The other boy's mockery was not subtle, thinly veiled in formality, decorated in the language of respect but deprived of any sincerity, poorly disguised by a shallow veneer of etiquette. Kullervo soon realised that the boy was not only mocking him but also testing him. A lesser child might have thrown words around, or even hands, but not Kullervo. Yet. His idea of superiority would be to not succumb to the baseness of such a creature who wielded the flimsy shield of overconfidence with its vision filtered through red. The boy before him was careless and careless things are easy to dismiss. Kullervo was good at dismissing people, complacent in his apathy, choosing how broken the other person ended up. He’d only bleed if he wanted to. Almost imperceptibly, the edge in his glare sharpened far more deliberately, as if aiming to pierce straight through the other boy as he let the moment settle, like snow falling upon a frozen lake. “You are strange.” Kullervo stated with a disgusted fascination, yet he did not seek the answers beneath the skin in spite of the door that vaulted reality over perception. He’d find his eyes would lie on the opposite side of this coin, a wicked trick to later leave him strung up like a marionette. But in his mind’s eye, he was the puppeteer. He would orchestrate and inflict shame, not the other way around. “Seriously, what are you wearing? Did you find that on - or near - something that died?” Kullervo sneered, looking him up and down with a critical eye. The ensemble was subpar, in his very objective opinion, and he was ashamed to let someone galavant around his home looking like that. It was everything to his artistic eye, who could notice a shade of colour out of place on the canvas, or a shadow that didn’t match with its surroundings. He layered over those mistakes, or smudged them clean from his artwork. It didn’t suit the other boy to be looking for someone he’d never be. But interactions such as these were like a winged insect to a funeral pyre. Inevitable, both in occurrence and consequence. Someone always ends up with the consequence. And when there’s fire, there’s an alerting smoke that draws in predators. Kullervo's mother seemed to have been summoned by some transcendental force as she simply materialised beyond the boy, casting a looming ominous shadow over his smaller frame. "Now, now, Kullervo... be kind to your guests." Ainikki placed a hand upon her son's shoulder, a threatening grip masquerading as gentleness. It only made the boy's scowl deepen, after initially being rendered mildly unmoored, even more so when she continued, a fated instruction falling from her lips. "Why don't you go and show this nice boy around the house, hm?" It was not a suggestion, one that made Kullervo mutter a resentful 'yes, mother...' under his breath before turning sharply, his coattail flipping with the force of it, and stepping with conviction towards the door. The ones who waited for judgement to befall them, from either a deity or a parent, were lost. He was anything but. It’d be wrong of him to try when there was no confiding upon a collapsing star. He might as well smash his grip on control, put a ‘for sale’ sign up on his soul, bite down, smile, and take the pain his mother has now so callously inflicted upon him. Kullervo would occasionally peer over his shoulder, both checking to see if the boy was following him, and if his mother was observing his surefire compliance. Positive, to both. He hmph'd and turned back around, guiding the other boy through the impressive halls of his manor. His ancestors’ portraits on the wall watched over them as they travelled through the corridors - the other boy could now see that Kullervo’s staring problem was inherited over many a generation - antiques filling every space with opulence, yet still feeling so devoid. No one would hear any screams from here, not even the portraits, who breathed their silent songs to be lost to the still cool air. "What do they call you?" Kullervo asked upon ascending a grand staircase, not because the boy’s name held any value to him, but because it was compelled of him to ask. As much as he'd like to throw a nasty nickname around for the entire evening, ‘idiot’ sounded good to him. But he was sure it'd only earn him a scolding later as he thought the other boy’s demeanour ensured an inevitable tattletale. Kullervo did not want this fool in his space, yet it was a sickness to savour like wine (or the wine he could have had earlier…), and he would much prefer to remain civil for a few hours than endure extra tutoring. He would simply have to wrap the boy with indisposed disdain if he were able to endure. |
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