l'appartement du prince phillip, le bar et le dîner des fae
veut juste son ordre habituel, jess :( 




Rare est cet amour, gardez-le couvert
J'ai besoin que tu cours vers moi, cours vers moi, amant
Courez jusqu'à ce que vous sentiez vos poumons saigner


Il a glissé sur le bord - un fardeau mis le poids mort contre son dos. La fumée traînée de ses lèvres, pressée contre les fissures de la surface et gonflée dans la piqûre froide de l'air du matin. La pluie s'abattait sur le côté de l'immeuble, une tête battant régulièrement plus vite que le battement dans sa poitrine. Il s'est couché plus loin, laissant l'échafaudage de son rebord de fenêtre rouiller sous son short en coton. Le vent a porté le poids des arbres et les chirrups tranquilles d'un coucou mêlé entre les bruits bas d'une colombe en deuil. Phillip a grimpé la tête en bas, laisse les sons atteindre ses oreilles avant qu'il ne s'affole et ne s'appuie sur le dos.
Une crainte profondément assise se moquait de lui, accrochée au-dessus de sa tête dans la lumière basse de l'aube. Le sommeil est venu fugacement, aspergé entre les rêves agités et ce qui l'a aggravé entre ce qui l'a imposé plus que lui a donné besoin de repos. Le tremblement de terre de quelques heures auparavant l'avait jeté d'un sommeil sans rêve, quelque chose de profond et d'accomplissant. Il l'a largué sur le côté de la route et l'a laissé se mettre derrière, juste à portée de main, mais jamais capable de saisir. Elle l'a poussé à la mauvaise habitude après une mauvaise habitude: l'alcool, la «navigation de l'internet» coupé d'une panne de courant, couver, et finalement traîner précairement par sa fenêtre avec une cigarette dans sa bouche et la pluie s'éclaboussant contre toute sa moitié avant.
Quelques heures plus tard, l'appel avait presque réussi à le renverser, bien qu'il se soit pris au milieu du saut. Son grognement l'empêcha de revenir et de répondre, laissant passer le message bip et le répondeur. Finalement, Phillip s'est dit, son doigt tapotant le bout de la cigarette sur le bord. Les cendres enrobaient ses genoux nus et un autre grondement grondait dans sa poitrine. La colombe de deuil s'est arrêtée, s'ajoutant à la pluie et cherchant probablement refuge. Ou quelque chose l'a eu; il n'a pas vu un faucon tourbillonner, mais la pluie n'a pas empêché un animal d'un bon repas.
La contemplation ne lui servirait à rien. Cela ne lui donnerait pas les cinq prochaines heures qu'il voulait dormir, et ne lui permettrait pas de se remettre de la journée à venir. Et c'est sûr que ça ne lui arrangerait pas de café. Pourtant, Phillip est resté immobile, se blottit au-dessus de l'échafaudage, les yeux regardant sur l'herbe intacte en bas. Comment éviter de harceler les voisins? Des contes paranoïaques qui se tournent vers lui, entre autres? Ils le feraient, juste par simple malheur et non parce qu'il pouvait faire n'importe quoi - tout le monde savait à quel point ils étaient tous capables et il n'était pas différent. Toujours.
Phillip griffa, crachant une autre bouffée de fumée dans ses poumons et jetant le museau d'une cigarette dans un buisson en dessous. Il a glissé en arrière, s'est enfermé dans sa chambre et s'est jeté dans sa chambre avec beaucoup de pause. Le seuil de la fenêtre s'est fermé avec un clic et il a jeté à travers son petit appartement et dans la seule salle de bains qu'il avait. L'eau a soufflé froid pendant cinq bonnes minutes solides, dont Phillip s'est arraché les dents jusqu'à ce qu'il fasse chaud. Il a crié pendant quelques bonnes secondes, sans abasourdissement et seulement un peu honteux. Il a fallu plus de temps pour s'adapter à l'oscillation des températures qu'il ne s'est fait nettoyer. Une fois qu'il l'a fait - ajoutant quelques touches ici et là - Phillip a pris un bon long regard sur son téléphone jusqu'à ce qu'il a finalement glissé dans un mot de passe et a pressé l'orateur à l'oreille.
Réunion. Bibliothèque. Dorothy disparu - mort, Phillip s'est corrigé lui-même. Dorothy était presque certainement morte. Il a roulé les yeux et laissé le téléphone rebondir sur son matelas, toujours en train de bavarder. Admettre n'importe quoi était contre tout ce que Phillip a défendu et l'entêtement qui l'a traversé a refusé de lâcher prise. Pas de cataclysme. Pas un autre, ça prendrait trop d'attention à gérer. Phillip a serré le talon de sa main dans l'œil, frotté jusqu'à ce que la lumière fleurisse à ses yeux et gronde de rien. Il a encore glissé son téléphone pour vérifier le temps avant de le jeter de côté une fois de plus.
Des heures se sont écoulées entre lui et quelque chose à faire. N'importe quoi à faire. Phillip a mis assez de vêtements pour être considéré comme décent et a quitté son appartement avec autant de précipitation qu'il le pouvait. Les soucis de Phillip s'arrêtèrent au bas de son estomac, rapidement masqué par le moteur de son camion battu littéralement rugissant à semi-vie (Schrodinger's Vehicle, il l'a appelé). Le trajet jusqu'à la bibliothèque est resté terse et Phillip s'est envolé dans son camion bien trop longtemps avant de revenir en vitesse et en tonneau. Inutile de perdre du temps à dormir sur l'un des bureaux - il s'est installé pour Fae's Diner et, à son arrivée, il s'est installé dans la cabine la plus éloignée qu'il ait pu trouver. Son éternuement passa sur Beauty et Adam, puis Sherlock avant de s'installer enfin sur le cuir en face de lui.
« Je doute que le café va aider qui que ce soit », murmura-t-il, ouvrant le menu, bien qu'il n'ait jamais commandé quelque chose de différent - deux muffins anglais remplis d'oeufs, de côté ensoleillé et de bacon, jamais de saucisses et un côté de bruns de haschisch avec une tasse chaude et éclaboussante de décaféiné, noir comme du café de nuit. Il était certain que Jess serait déjà exaspéré à cuisiner quelque chose pour lui. Peut-être. Phillip n'a pas laissé un coup d'oeil, sa propre fierté s'empare d'un repas copieux. Mis à part le tremblement de terre, l'appel, le sens général de "Oh merde, quelque chose se passe," rampant partout sur son dos et ses épaules, ça semblait être n'importe quel jour normal. Cependant, ce n'était jamais un bon signe si Phillip décidait de sortir de chez lui après midi, à la recherche de quelque chose à manger avec sa tasse de café habituelle.
"I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer." - F. Scott Fitzgerald




 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ N A M E 
Phillip Sommer
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ S T O R Y 
Sleeping Beauty
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ B I R T H P L A C E 
Bellegarde
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ M A G I C 
No
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ A G E 
31
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ R O M A N T I C I N T E R E S T S 
Well, there's obligation and then there's something else.
"Father, this marriage has no meaning. A marriage that will not last is built without love. I say the same for a kingdom."
And yet how does a boy differentiate between love and fantasies? Fairies have a certain way about them. Whether it's filling a quota, like some, or truly believing in their own work. Whether it meant either is another matter entirely. Phillip does not approve much of meddling, but in the throes of his own passion, he cannot see the strings forcing him along. Love, to him, had only been in his dreams and in a girl who wiled her worries away in forest songs - a girl he'd barely even met.
Now, older and wiser - or, perhaps, just more cynical - Phillip finds the approach of fancy skeptical. More so, he requires a lot more than dreams and whimsy to connect with an individual. He may not care for gender, but he certainly cares for more than a strange meeting and the possibility of fate as the lead in an ever complex scheme - nothing to do with love. Phillip needs that more than ever: love for love's sake, and nothing else to complicate matters.
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ A T T I R E 
Before everything, before the Cataclysm, before the fairies and the curse, Phillip's attire never really consisted of outwear or armor of any kind. Knowing only royalty meant only the finest in tailoring. Custom made capes of fur and finery wrapped around a broad set of shoulders, along the silk of a shirt tightly woven across his torso. In his father's kingdom, and adjacent kingdoms, royalty dress code tended to range from extravagant to slightly impractical (especially when concerning women's dress). However, that quickly changed into attire that he deemed more comfortable on horseback, out in the woods for both hunting and scouting. It became a dire need for Phillip to let himself slide further and further away from his family - their ideals never matched his own as he grew older.
Now, without royalty and his own namesake backing him up, Phillip's resorting to comfortable attire. Things less likely to chafe and constrict, often going for plainness and comfort over anything else. He's never been the type to want the attention, nor to call for it, and thus he strays from flamboyance more than anything. However, hats tend to be a thing of his and he's grown accustom to wearing a ball cap or a regular flat cap, all in varying colors with varying logos.
When asked about his favorite team, he usually just points to his hat and smiles. The inevitable barrage of questions often come at the exact time he decides he really needs to leave, sorry, good bye.




 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ H E R O ' S N A T U R E 
Every hero needs a counter balance. In this case, the balance tipped all the over to his side. Love had been a driving force for Phillip in many ways and in many ways love also betrayed him. In that, Phillip has develop and molded himself into what he sees today. Perhaps it's not that simple, however, even tho he wishes it so. Things that revolve around the choices we make and why we make them seldom do. For Phillip, much of his decision lie in emotion and impulse. If he felt it right, he would consider it with his whole heart and leave none of it undone. And many, many times has Phillip come out of a situation lacking another piece of himself. Certain actions demand tribute. If he had taken the time to sit and think, instead of constantly leap to aid, many of these situations would cease to exist and Phillip would perhaps contain more pieces of himself he had so willingly tossed away.
Now, in a world driven made and torn at the seams, Phillip tends to perceive things in a calculated manner, often looking toward logic to make the decision for him. And yet, two extremes don't necessarily make a whole person. Many of Phillip's life, now dictated by facts and skepticism, has gone under a far grayer lens that the ones he'd accused his father of looking through. Most of what he does now includes his self-interest as a number one priority, rather than the well-beings of others. Perhaps feeling scorned far too much has spoiled the heart he once wore on his sleeve.
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ R E N O W N E D S K I L L S 
Fit for a king. Or rather, a prince. On the surface, nothing seems oddly striking about the young man, royalty or not, and yet interest piques without much provocation. Perhaps charisma has been far kinder to the prince in his younger days, but a man with words is a deadly man no doubt. Knowing trades and tricks often associated with diplomats and negotiators comes in handy in quite a lot of situations. Those situations, however, tend to vary and come few and far between during times of strife - when self-preservation trumps all. Not necessarily where this prince shines, he seems a solo operating man, tending to traverse areas alone with a perceptive eye and a knack for explaining in curt detail things of import. When all else fails, a sword in his hand is no deadlier than with a knight.; however, a shield finds no better master than he.
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ F A T A L F L A W 
Nothing kills a man quicker than falling on his own sword. Before it had been impulse, spontaneity, leaping without thought that endangered the prince. Now it remains the opposite: fleeting cold calculations, logic, over analysis, indecisiveness. Most of all, a selfishness that presents itself at every corner. A question, "how does this benefit me?" at the tip of his tongue no more and no less than three times within the span of a few seconds rattling his brain. Even before, it's been selfishness that has cost him dearly. Selfishness of his thoughts and a freedom of his emotions; now, a selfishness of his heart and a freedom for his hardened mind.
 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ O N C E U P O N A T I M E 
Prince Phillip's upbringing didn't venture far from the usual 'royal prince' regimen. At a young age, many things had been expected of him: to eventually lead a kingdom, to marry, to sire an heir, to win wars, to negotiate treatises. Even early on, Phillip hadn't known much beyond the lessons he'd been given and going from one lesson to the other as the days rolled on. Proper etiquette, proper speech, knowledge of his kingdom's history inside and out. Obedience was an expected trait in order to properly fit into the mold accustomed to him and his kingdom.
However, Phillip quickly grew out of any box they'd attempted to put him in. Emotions guided him first and foremost. As a young teenager, he grew quite rebellious for his age and often took long hunting trips in order to safely distance himself from his duties. Eventually what became a solace for him became a nuisance for his father. It quickly led to Phillip's eventual arranged marriage. His outburst had woken the entire castle and Phillip quickly escaped to the confines of the forest.
During this retreat, he'd happened upon a dream, one influenced by a fairy worried for the future of this portion of Bellegarde. It was fast approaching the event that would topple an entire kingdom and desperation had driven the magical being to ruthless manipulation. True love's kiss would awaken the sleeping beauty, but whether Aurora considered it true love or not didn't matter - as long as this Prince designated to kiss her believed he loved her hard enough. Truly loved her. And that was quite easy regarding young, testosterone filled prince's wandering the woods.
The dream had ended abruptly, with Phillip dancing in the woods with a fair young maiden. Fortunately, his dream had been interrupted with the same singing he'd heard in his dream. Driven to find the source, Phillip happened upon a young princess, of which he found was 'Aurora' of the kingdom close to his own borders. They'd spent the day talking, dancing, generally 'falling in love' as it were. As the forest grew dark, Aurora quickly left with no true promise of return. Of course, Phillip hadn't minded then, too entranced to truly care as he left for hom immediately.
When he arrived home days later, he'd heard of the unfortunate news that befell the kingdom over. It wasn't until his father uttered her name did Phillip jump to their aid. Though young and brash, Phillip had an inkling of an idea in his mind of how to get rid of the course. Unwilling to share with his father, he took up arms that night and plotted his advance toward the tower the princess resided in. Word had it that the keep was guarded by a powerful dragon, one that spit green fire and was nearly invincible.
Upon arrival, however, Phillip saw no sign of this monster and he quickly scaled the tower to his awaiting princess. He lay one kiss upon her lips in order to awaken her, yet, after moment nothing happened. He attempted one more and still nothing. After a few moments of confusion, Phillip heard stifled grumbling in the room adjacent. Inside was a small lady with a pair of translucent wings and a wand, dressed in orange. Her scrunched up face looked up at him in surprise and he demanded an explanation. She told him of the spell she placed on his dream, that she intended for him to fall in love with the princess and didn't realize that it would backfire like this.
At that instant a deep rumbling shook the tower and green fire flashed against the windowpane. Wanting more than just her flimsy few sentences, Phillip rushed the fairy out of the keep and rode off into the forest before the dragon could sniff them out. There, the fairy explained her plan in full and apologized for the making him just another tool to use, much like his father did and much like his kingdom expected of him. Coming home, he soon learned of his soon to be betrothed, though misfortune tinged the news. His betrothed had been Aurora and with her kingdom in shambles, they had nothing to do but wait and wait until someone could eventually lift the curse from their lands.
That never came. So many years after the curse had settled, the eventual Cataclysm tore Bellegarde to shreds. A great wall of thorns ran through the entirety of their kingdom, leaving Phillip's people in perpetual shadow. With it came the once slumbering citizens of the kingdom over, of Aurora's kingdom. These people had the curse twisted and run foul by the ambient magic tearing their world apart and they were now tasked to walk these lands in a slumbering haze, hurting and harming anyone who obstructed their path.
Being of royalty and having a few skills abound, Phillip was quickly rushed out of the kingdom, though he escaped his own parents' custody to assist his kingdom's people as they were left to fend for themselves in this crisis. Unfortunately, before he could take a step back into his home a figure whisked him away. Finding out that it had been Merlin, the grand wizard himself, Phillip succumbed to his own fate and followed the crowd of people into a new haven, of sorts, a new world.




 ⦿ ⦿ ⦿ A N E W C H A P T E R 
The potential of going back ran rather high, even in the five years they've spent in Mystvale. That is cause itself to keep Prince Phillip safe, as he is among the few with any knowledge of negotiating and diplomacy, something that would likely do them well when it comes to aiding the various nations in their home world. Here, though, it still provides a good use, as Phillip using his skills in order to discuss and negotiate with those not like him - even if plain humans don't know, it's good to keep them on their good side.
Of course, Phillip takes his new found freedom to heart. He doesn't see himself as royalty in this world and thus wishes not to be treated as such. If anything, he prefers earth to his home world, as it lacks any restricting laws and rules that keep him from living a full life.
Mostly, Phillip does what he thinks is best for him and, in the long run, it may or may not affect Mystvale in a harsh manner. He's in it mostly for his own self-preservation, though here's to hoping that eventually he comes to his senses. He is among the few that wish to start over on Earth, rather than fix their home lands. Now it's a matter of survival and keeping this new home in tact.