job | open | are you ready for SUMMER WARS

[arcanepower]

Who: Belthazar and you!
When: The second week of June
Where: Caissa
What: Belthazar is helping with Dance of the Drops. By all means, please ruin his life.
Rating: Standard family action.

[ A. concessions ]

[Belthazar might not be tall or good-looking or spectacular in any visible way, but he is damn good at cooking. He is being paid to make festival food but it comes out looking fancy and tasting top-notch. The shops all the way down the block are watching as lines form, and they're getting jealous. And unruly. In fact, some of them are trying outlandish claims to attract customers to their less-than-gourmet food.

Belthazar sticks his head out of the back to take another order and hears:]

'Fried pork sticks! Guaranteed to extend your life!'

... I'm not sure about that.

[ B. wrong place, wrong time ]

[He's very much regretting his choice of black clothing. It's hot, and it's hot when he's in the back cooking, and basically he's sitting in the shade miserable because he wore long sleeves and pants today. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and drinks some juice, utterly exhausted, and stares at the crazy watergun fight going on across the plaza. Unfortunately, he doesn't realize he's actually out of the 'off limits' area.

Inevitably, a steampunk-style robot approaches. Having never seen one of these in Caissa before, Belthazar gets up to study it closely.

And gets water to the face.

While he's soaking wet and spluttering, a group of rampaging children douse him further. He is quiet, deathly so... something must be wrong.]

You... how dare you! Do you think I was hiding because I am weak!? No. I am prepared for anything!

[Belthazar lets out a chilling evil laugh and pulls off his tunic, revealing a tank top underneath as well as a water gun and several water grenades strapped to his belt. He unholsters his water gun, which is really too big for him, and holds it at the ready.]

I AM COMING FOR YOU, HUMAN CHILDREN!

Comments

AHAHAHHFDSJF

[arcanepower]

[WHAT, NO. THIS IS THE LAST THING HE WANTED. He's completely frozen for a moment despite the temperature, his blush turning to pale. Oh, Light, he's still not good with physical contact... The truth is that he has been working very hard, and in this heat, and he is very overdressed, and that combined with 'why are people so nice' has made him a bit dazed. It's horrible being a repressed, isolated, immortal teenager. It really is.

And then there is the matter of mana transfer, which feels so wonderful to him, as he hasn't had any for quite some time. He still needs it to live even if he tries to feign otherwise.

Blood elf problems.]

I-I-I'm fine! I am fine. [He tries to right himself as best he can without elbowing Sion in the face, though most of him just wants to flail and spit like a dragon.] I appreciate your kindness, but I would request that you either help me or stay out of my way. [He tries to gather himself and resume what he was doing before-- mixing batter for crepes.]

[sunderings]

Fine?

[ Head canting to the side, Sion considers his new-found companion with an inquisitive glance and knowing eyes. Able to both feel and perceive the tension in the younger man, the King had seamlessly withdrawn before any such flailing limb could hope to collide with his face, and after putting a measure of distance between them, he finds he cannot help but be endeared to it, the fluster of his comrade. Well, if the little chef boasted energy enough, yet, to protest and to carry on with his work, then... ]

If you're certain. [ Thankfully, it seems the color has gone from the younger man's cheeks, and given one less reason to fuss, Sion contents himself to survey the close-quarters they are to call a kitchen. ] But just to be sure, I'll look after you for the time being.

[ As well as lend his aid to the just cause of crepes, for that batter mix is something which Sion easily recognizes! ]

As I said before, this humble King is at your disposal. [ His smile is gentle, bright as he places a hand over his heart, golden eyes lambent and alight with a warmth intrinsic to him as he dips his head into an elegant bow. ] You need only to direct me, and you will find that I excel at both assisting you and ensuring that your space remains your own.

[ ...even if he so happens to have eight inches upon his fellow Hero, and he is also quite certain that his ponytail might rival the man in height. ]

What filling shall I prepare for the crepes?

[arcanepower]

Suit yourself. [Now that they're back in tsundere territory, Belthazar is promptly returning to his work. He's fast and his fingers know what they are doing. He even has his sleeves rolled up so they don't get dirty.]

Strawberry and cream. I trust someone with your appreciation of the culinary arts can manage it.

[It could be an insult or a compliment, hard to tell. He's moving on too quickly to dwell on it. As he stirs the batter, he glances over at Sion with an aloof sort of curiosity.]

When you say you are a king, do you mean the Hero rank or... [He's almost too afraid to finish.] A nobleman does not belong in the kitchens, or so I was told.

[sunderings]

[ Tsundere? Who's tsundere? Sion's fellow Hero...? Certainly not! Or if he is, Sion himself seems not to notice, offering a nod of his head and accompanying smile in response to the chef's directive before settling into the calm rhythms of the task he's been assigned. There are strawberries to prepare, their green caps removed and the fruit cut on an aesthetically pleasing diagonal, and it is a job which is swiftly put to rest...! Though not before Sion sneaks a whole strawberry to a child awaiting an order of crepes with his mother, ensuring their silence upon the matter with a playful wink and a slender forefinger held just in front of his lips in the universal bid for tell not another soul.

Then, there is the matter of cream, something which is best made fresh though there are remnants of a former batch, and Sion is pleased to find vanilla bean among the ingredients atop the counter he'd vaulted over moments (minutes?) ago. ]

Both. [ —is the answer to the question which has not gone fully asked. It is said simply, plainly, without putting on airs. ] For the life of me, I cannot decide whether my promotion to King's rank is some cosmically ordained joke or otherwise.

[ Being that, of course, he'd been no healer before. Quite the opposite, rather, but that is neither here nor there. ]

My name is Sion, by the way. Sion Astal. It is a pleasure to share a kitchen with you. [ A hum upon his lips, he turns to catch his companion's eyes. ] And I should like to know who it was that told you such a thing.

[ Anyone can belong wherever they please, after all. ]

[arcanepower]

[What kind of sweets cart doesn't have vanilla bean. Honestly. He'd been in here since the early morning demanding spices, because Belthazar is just that kind of guy. Ice magic keeps the perishable things fresh even in the heat, which is probably part of the popularity.

Meanwhile, Belthazar is honestly struck by the admission, and he's just staring at Sion with wide (glowing) green eyes while the crepe batter sits.]

Ah--

[He goes back to stirring furiously.]

Y-- you are too kind, Your Majesty. Very much so. I am a commoner and a very poor one at that, so it has always been my fate to toil in someone else's kitchen while I study for a place at the seat of magisters.

[Something he'll never attain, now. His expression darkens, though it helps that his rabbitlike ears basically telegraph everything he's feeling to the world. He goes on.]

I always thought that hard work and raw talent would bring me greatness. The outside world is not so simple...

[sunderings]

No, it is not. But nevertheless, you dream.

[ This makes two times, then, that he's caught his comrade off-guard. The first instance had been the product of happenstance and the younger man's own fluster (the Hero's temperament, the light of his green eyes, the taper of nimble ears all remind Sion of another such Hero in Blanc), but the second might have been avoided if Sion had paid greater mind to the deference which he'd been greeted with even before he'd made his status known.

My Lord. Seat of Magisters. Outside world.

Ah. For Sion having offered his aid out of the blue, quite suddenly there's rather a lot to talk about, and none of it seems befitting of a festival food stall. But here they are, and where his companion takes to furiously working the crepe batter (again!), Sion whisks the heavy cream (chilled by way of magic!) with vanilla bean (and not extract!), thinking only that there is no great distance between them. ]

Keep to your studies, for there is always much to learn. Be tenacious as you have been in pursuit of finding your place. And know... that you do not dream alone. Do not lose heart, and do not give up.

[ Such matters are close to Sion's own heart, being that the very first barrier he'd torn down upon ascending the throne had been the wall which parted civilians and nobility; that which promoted inequality and worse. It had been that very barrier which had allowed his Lord father to abduct a happily wed woman and keep her as a doll, as a mistress. And when that woman (beautiful and kind), became with child, she'd been a thing discarded, cast aside with the child she bore into the most destitute region of the country.

That child, of course, had been Sion himself. And if he'd spoken with conviction (and he had), it had been because he, too, had once struggled to find his place (and truth be told, he struggles still). ]

...though you may wish give up on the batter for the crepes, lest you over-mix it.

[ And surely, the pan meant for the batter must be hot enough to work properly with by now...! ]

[arcanepower]

[Sion's words are sweet but also filled with wisdom. He actually stops mixing as Sion mentions that he doesn't dream alone. At the end of the day, that's what Belthazar needs to hear-- that he isn't alone. That all of his struggles have been for a reason, to bring him closer and closer to a goal even if he isn't sure what that goal is.

Having had his lifelong obsession (not a dream, but a mantra, an ultimatum) snatched out of his hands like it meant nothing hurt him deeply, and a year later he still doesn't know what he's doing. Part of him screams that he must go, go, go but... go where? He's found a home. Where else can he go? The tower of success is lost to him with his ladder completely missing. He needs to make a rope, now, and secure his own knots.

Needless to say, the King's words ring true, and give the poor boy some pause. Light knows he needs some chill in his life. He wordlessly takes Sion's advice and pours some batter onto the crepe pan.

It isn't until the crepe is on a plate that Belthazar says something again.]

Do you believe there is more than one way to change the world?

1/2 wow i apologize for this nonsense

[sunderings]

[ What a question—it arrives on the heels of a crepe cooked to perfection, lightly browned and quick to be filled with both strawberries and cream before being so crowned by a drizzle of chocolate sauce. It is only then that the sweet treat is sent off to the still-awaiting child and his mother, and shortly thereafter, the process begins again, and they are greeted with more customers and more smiling faces.

Thankfully, Sion is rather used to multitasking, and his answer to his comrade's question forms a story in-between their crepe-slinging service: ]

A world where no one has to lose anything, where everyone can join hands and smile foolishly without having to cry... such a place would seem but a fanciful thought, an impossibility to most, but it is the world I wish to create for my people.

[ Changing the world—how very much it meant to him, and he thinks it must mean every bit as much to his companion who is quiet, but passionate in his silence. There is something about the younger man which reminds the Hero King very much of himself. ]

Once, corruption festered in my kingdom. The old nobility oppressed the people, waged war as they pleased, and the law abetted them, for it was written by their hands. At that time, the distribution of power prevented change. Inequality became more deeply rooted than ever in my country, injustice became normalcy, and both were heavy chains upon my people's hearts.

More than anything, my people needed to believe that salvation was attainable; that by simply living on and working hard, they could gain happiness, and so...

[ Giving pause, he searches out the lovely (glowing) green eyes of his fellow Hero, meeting them with his own (incandescent) gold. It is quite clear that Sion is versed in speaking in such a manner, he is very much at ease and the rhythms of the tale come easily to him, and yet... this is the very first time he's told anyone in Enprise of his homeland. For nearly five months, he's served as a Hero of Blanc, and for five months, he's neglected to speak of himself.

Perhaps his new-found companion is the first person to give him reason to. ]

I brought a light of hope into existence.

If someone says it is impossible, one cannot give up. If one is born in the wrong country, the wrong time, the wrong world, it matters not. One must always walk forward in pursuit of their joys and dreams not only for themselves, but to pave the way for others and to inspire them.

To change the world, you must tend to people's hearts, for they are the ones who shape it. To do this, however... there are any number of ways, whether it be by the creation of hope or otherwise.

I...

[sunderings]

[ Almost sheepishly, he ducks his head, laughing lightly as he lifts a hand to tuck the fringe of his hair back, behind the shell of his ear. ]

...have rambled on for quite some time, haven't I? What's more, I've even failed to make proper introductions. I still do not know your name.

[ Though he would very much like to, he doesn't need to say. ]

[arcanepower]

[Sion is full of surprises. Here is Belthazar, listening to someone after his own heart, and he's shocked. Someone who openly embraces change and wants to erase corruption. Someone who understands what it's like to be ground beneath the heels of nobility, to have filth thrown at them instead of money, to taste the bitter grounds of someone's false charity rather than kindness.

Adrasteius was the first person Belth had ever met with such aspirations, and here is a second. And Belthazar's world gets a little bigger.]

My name is Belthazar-- Belthazar Anor'thalion.

[He wishes he could pause his work and talk forever, but he has to multitask too. Thankfully, it's something he is also good at.]

My home is a beautiful city with rotten roots. Before, the inequality was not so noticeable. A common man of considerable talent could still rise up in the ranks. The elves' tradition of closemindedness only served to destroy Quel'thalas that much faster, however.

The survivors-- few as they were-- desperately sought power without fear of the consequences, and that only made the divide wider. I fear it has nearly brought about our ruin. Tell me, stranger: what good can come of rebuilding a society with stolen magic? None. Those who take what is not theirs deserve what comes their way threefold.

My views jeopardized my position as an apprentice. I was accused of something I did not do, and now... I must start over.

[He shakes his head.]

Now I'm the one rambling. What I mean to say is that the path I chose is closed to me, and I do not know what, if anything, can be done about it.