We met at the disco

[Rhys McCabe]

"I can hardly feel it anymore..." he confessed. He had also sort of forgotten about it in all the... whatever just happened. It felt good, though. All that tight, nasty, buzzing energy inside dissipated and dissolved into something buoyant and bubbly. It felt like... breaking the surface of the water after diving deep, like floating in a dream. So this was what Raphael was chasing so vehemently.

All the bluffing and fanfaronade in the world couldn't compare to just having Raphael hold tight to him. It was like his affection was everywhere, in his legs and his arms, in his smile. Rhys closed his eyes and allowed himself to just be held and cuddled. Funny, this was all Raphael asked of him earlier and Rhys was a big... dick about it. (But it also might have had to do with the way Raphael tried to order him to do it. Naturally, Rhys chafed against orders.)

"What game night?" he asked just as Raphael quickly began to explain it. Hah. Game night. That sounded so... dumb. Maybe it wasn't so bad, though. At least... it probably wasn't boring. (A high compliment coming from Rhys.) He sighed as Raphael stroked his shoulder. The blight... and he felt that itch again. He tilted his head slightly and tried to get a look through the corner of his eye but he couldn't really tell if anything was happening.

"I did it to myself," he moaned. "It's like a snake biting itself and being poisoned by its own venom."

[Raphael Malai]

Gasp—that wasn't a no for game night! For once Rhys didn't immediately dismiss an idea or a suggestion without first finding out if it was worth dismissing! That surely had to mean that Raphael had caught him in a rare good mood, and he should probably capitalize on this now, while Rhys was delirious off the kisses and confessions—and the high of a new relationship. Arguably, Raphael didn't think he had ever had a real relationship. How could a prince have a relationship with consorts? Or with a servant boy who trailed after him like an annoying yappy puppy?

"It was kind of a dumb thing to do," Raphael agreed whole-heartedly, with no thought to things like subtlety and not poking a sore wound. But even Rhys knew that corrupting his own wings was a terrible idea! Wings didn't work like that! He peered down too, trying to get a glimpse of the wings. When his own were growing, it felt awfully itchy. He kept scratching at his back; people at the college thought he had ticks or lice or something and gave him a wide berth for a long while. But eventually the itch went away, and now... He didn't know their condition but he was willing to bet that they were growing out very nicely, thanks to Rhys!

"I guess it's better than Keith doing it. Or your father..." The last one, Raphael whispered in a fearful tone—as if by uttering his name, the King would appear before them. Raphael was deathly afraid of him, that was a fact. "Do you think he'll come here to look for you, Rhys?" Raphael hugged him tighter. He was never letting go! Anyone wanting to separate them would have to pry Rhys out of his cold, dead hands!

[Rhys McCabe]

Rhys was still without a shirt and he'd left his blanket back on the couch on top of the tea stain. So his back was sort of... exposed. It felt better that way, though, the itchiness not withstanding. He sighed, though and wished he could argue about how dumb it was that he went and corrupted himself. Instead, he just mumbled something about not knowing he could corrupt himself, so low that it was under breath and maybe not fully audible. He hadn't meant to exert the corruption in the first place. He just panicked, trying to rip the wings off with his bare hands.

Which was dumb, he couldn't deny that. It really was like trying to rip a tooth right out of his mouth without provocation or pull a finger off--the wings were as much a part of him as a tooth or finger. So what made him think tearing them off wouldn't hurt like fuck? Or that he wouldn't screw it up in the attempt?

"...yeah, he's going to come for me," Rhys said as Raphael held him tighter. "He was there when I tried to tear them off. He... wanted me to. Encouraged me to do it."

[Raphael Malai]

All three of the King's children were here. The three that Raphael knew of by name, that was—he was certain that there could be more heirs to the throne. Was it coincidence? Or was it fate for them to all converge here, to this one place? A chill ran down his spine. What if... the King brought them all here? What if he wanted them in one place for easier access to them?

"He must have known you couldn't tear them off on your own though!" Raphael frowned, letting his fingertips graze the edge of the blight. It stung horribly so he jerked his hand away quickly. Ouch. Rhys was powerful, so his corruption magic was strong, too. There wasn't much that Raphael could do for him in terms of magic, but he continued to stroke Rhys' hair and to hold him and love him to the best of his abilities. A few soft kisses fell against Rhys' forehead, temple, cheek.

"Maybe he wanted you to get hurt... Maybe... he knew I'd bring you to Margie..." Raphael gulped. He hated to even voice his concerns but he didn't know why else the King would want Rhys to do a thing like that! And afterwards the King was gone. He wasn't there when Raphael ran into the bathroom to check on Rhys. Why not? Why wouldn't he want to see this through? He hadn't reappeared here, either, so... was he not looking? Because he was already satisfied the work was done, to get Rhys here where his other brothers were?

Raphael lowered his head and his voice. "I'm scared, Rhys." For himself, yes—he was a traitor and a traitor's fate was death. But what about Professor Jack? And Prince Bee? And Ken and Niall? Margie? Charles? He feared for all of their safety and well-being.

[Rhys McCabe]

"...yeah." Rhys knew better, too, but he still tried. Why would his father encourage him to do it, knowing it wouldn't work? Why did Rhys still try to go through with it, knowing that it wouldn't work? Because... He wanted that acknowledgement. And he liked feeling like he was doing right by his father's eyes... even if it wasn't right by anybody else's. He sighed. Look where it got him, though.

Well...

Not that right here was a bad place to be. Although, that--touching the blight--not so great. Even Rhys hissed a little, cringing at the way it felt. It hurt like a burn that just wouldn't go away. Some of the salves and magic that the fixer put on him soothed it so that it wasn't as unbearable. But it was pretty hard to ignore when something came in contact with it.

He closed his eyes, spoiled for kisses. It was nice. Letting himself be... loved. What a fool he played, pushing him so far away that he probably was about to lose him. He'd never seen Raphael angrier.

"Maybe."

Opening his eyes, he turned his head so that he could peer up at Raphael. What a place to be. He was pretty sure he never even dreamed of this. Raphael's lowered head and tone, though... Scared? Of...? Rhys being here with Marge? Raphael hadn't finished his thought about that, about his father knowing Raphael would bring him to Marge. Ah. He was worried that Rhys being here was basically... a trap.

"If he knew where I was, then Keith would know, too, wouldn't he? And he didn't know." He paused. "Maybe it'd be better if I passed on game night, Raf. I think whatever's warding me here is keeping them off my back, too."

[Raphael Malai]

Maybe it was another test of loyalty, to see if Rhys would do what he wanted without question. The King had a habit of doing that, Raphael noticed, as though he needed constant reassurance that his one and only remaining son was still loyal and obedient. Rhys never disappointed him before, so Raphael didn't see why the King was so concerned, but...

Then again here they were, locked in each other's arms.

Raphael wondered if the King sensed something amiss. He must have; otherwise how could he appear so quickly after Rhys grew wings? He must have been monitoring Rhys the entire time. What game was he playing, letting Rhys suffer like this? His own son, too! If he wanted, he could have excised the wings easily. There was no need to put Rhys through all this!

"Maybe they can extend the ward? It's only a few more feet outside..." It wasn't asking for much, was it? They could move the ward from Prince Bee's apartment to the courtyard, if it was indeed what was keeping Rhys cloaked from Keith or the King. At the mention of Keith, though, Raphael's expression definitely darkened. He thought fondly of Rip, his only friend in their small group, but he felt helpless knowing that he couldn't help Rip to escape. Raphael couldn't show himself anywhere near that apartment now. He wished he could have taken Rip with him, too, but Rip wasn't like Rhys. Even if someone had cloaked him, he was still connected to his creator and Keith could have traced Rip here without any trouble.

He sighed and nuzzled Rhys. "If they can't do it, then... I'm not going to join them. I'll stay here with you." It wouldn't be right to enjoy himself out there knowing that Rhys was trapped here, all alone on the outside looking in. Or... on the inside looking out? Anyway Raphael could never fully enjoy himself! He kissed Rhys' temple gently. "I belong here with you. With... my boyfriend." There was definite pride in his tone.

[Rhys McCabe]

"Yeah, maybe..."

Rhys didn't even know if he needed the ward, though. He hadn't been warded when he arrived so the last place he was pinpointed would already be here... In the end, it didn't matter, ward or not. Anybody as smart as his father or even Keith could figure out that Rhys' last location had been these apartments.

Maybe they weren't even looking for him anymore. A part of him didn't like that but the logical side of him said that it would be best if they left him for dead. His father, though, wasn't that type. Frowning, he tried to push the thoughts aside but he couldn't help feeling like all of this didn't bode well for any of them.

He didn't give voice to his thoughts; Raphael seemed so... happy that there was no point in freaking him out or dragging him further down. He really seemed to want this whole stupid game night business, too. Rhys personally didn't see the point but that could be lingering boredom talking. Everything had been pointless to him not so long ago. Everything.

"Well then... come on." Reluctantly, he sat up. "Your boyfriend should try game night at least once."

[Brayden Smith]

Desperation had driven Bray to text Jack from across the courtyard, even though they weren't more than ten feet away from one another. He had been setting up the game area with blankets and cushions to sit on and a makeshift raised table for the cards and things. Ken was setting up too--more instruments to keep them safe. There seemed to be an endless supply in his bag that he drew from. Occasionally he would pause to converse with Jack, and Bray noticed that certain eyes would invariably watch them with rather suspicious interest.

Bray, however, was left largely to his own devices. He ended up hiding behind a tree out of embarrassment at having missed an obvious attempt at flirtation. It flew completely over his head, to be very honest. Even after being with Jack for all this time... He was still painfully oblivious about certain things. However, he was not oblivious about the deepening attraction between them--still. Every moment that passed, he felt as if he loved Jack more, just when he thought he couldn't possibly fall any harder.

It made hosting all these guests very difficult! But surprisingly, after their brief (joking, he thought) conversation earlier about sneaking out for secret rendez-vous, Allie texted him! Bray was all kinds of shocked. Jack worked fast! He couldn't get out tonight but the weekend seemed promising. Bray could leave for a bit; Jack  could join him after his lectures concluded at the college. It seemed perfect and Bray was buzzing with anticipation.

Maybe that was what gave him the confidence to text Jack, whereas before he would have cast silent, longing glances. In a few areas, Bray was still rather shy, but he felt that he was opening up.

Eventually he eased off the tree to go and check on Rhys and Raf--the youngsters. After sneaking a fond glance over at Jack, he went into his own apartment and heard voices from the bedroom. He came to the door as Raphael was flinging his arms around Rhys and almost... attacking him with kisses.

"Boyfriend! You said boyfriend!" He crowed joyously, oblivious to Bray standing at the doorway. "I can't wait for you to see the cute game area we're setting up! And--oh! OH! Prince Bee!" Raphael leapt off the bed and ran over to him. "Prince Bee! We--Rhys said he's coming to game night!"

Bray smiled, feeling Raphael's infectious glee. "I'm so glad! We're almost ready, so come out whenever you're ready. I think I can talk Marge into lowering the barrier." Marge had returned distinctly... sloshed. But that also meant she was susceptible to being nicer to Rhys!