Prince Hans of The Southern Isles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hanssome) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-04-30 01:08 am
hanssome) wrote in thecapitol2014-04-30 01:08 am
He ran into my sword.
WHO| Hans and Open
WHAT| Hans the Triumphant Victor avoids his brothers and tattles on them to whoever he can.
WHEN| Anytime between the arrival of guests and the now.
WHERE| Around the tower, out and about.
WARNINGS| Hans being Hans.
The Mini Arena had been a challenge jarring enough to shake even Hans to his nasty core. He'd survived, not without getting his hands dirty, though. It isn't the perspective he wanted to give people, but he can easily act under the impression that he was thoroughly rattled by the threat of perma-death. Of course, that had been a complete fabrication in order to throw all of the tributes under a bus. Nobody really came out looking clean, apart from the idiots who sacrificed themselves for others. It's been awkward to say the least, Hans hasn't had the same presence around the tower as he might have. He's slowly withdrawn himself more and more until this damn place put the final nail in his coffin.
Brothers. Two of them. The absolute last people he ever wanted to see along with the ten others. He can only be thankful for the fact that they haven't utterly tarnished his reputation because they seem hellbent on pretending he's a non-entity. He's not sure what he finds more infuriating, but he loathes to see them enjoying themselves in a place he'd slowly begun to make his mark on. If he were a cat he'd be pressing his face against everything here, instead he's opted for a more rodent like approach to the situation and has taken to sneaking around.
He isn't avoiding anyone but them, so if someone were to see him traipsing around he'd happily make an approach in order to try rebuild that sociable reputation. If the conversation allows, and it surely will, he has a smorgasbord of tragic stories about his brothers in order to shed a little light on why he is the saddest and most put upon Prince in all of the Southern Isles.
WHAT| Hans the Triumphant Victor avoids his brothers and tattles on them to whoever he can.
WHEN| Anytime between the arrival of guests and the now.
WHERE| Around the tower, out and about.
WARNINGS| Hans being Hans.
The Mini Arena had been a challenge jarring enough to shake even Hans to his nasty core. He'd survived, not without getting his hands dirty, though. It isn't the perspective he wanted to give people, but he can easily act under the impression that he was thoroughly rattled by the threat of perma-death. Of course, that had been a complete fabrication in order to throw all of the tributes under a bus. Nobody really came out looking clean, apart from the idiots who sacrificed themselves for others. It's been awkward to say the least, Hans hasn't had the same presence around the tower as he might have. He's slowly withdrawn himself more and more until this damn place put the final nail in his coffin.
Brothers. Two of them. The absolute last people he ever wanted to see along with the ten others. He can only be thankful for the fact that they haven't utterly tarnished his reputation because they seem hellbent on pretending he's a non-entity. He's not sure what he finds more infuriating, but he loathes to see them enjoying themselves in a place he'd slowly begun to make his mark on. If he were a cat he'd be pressing his face against everything here, instead he's opted for a more rodent like approach to the situation and has taken to sneaking around.
He isn't avoiding anyone but them, so if someone were to see him traipsing around he'd happily make an approach in order to try rebuild that sociable reputation. If the conversation allows, and it surely will, he has a smorgasbord of tragic stories about his brothers in order to shed a little light on why he is the saddest and most put upon Prince in all of the Southern Isles.
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"Avoiding them, actually." He admits, gritting his teeth a little as he does.
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He raises his eyebrows. "Even when ya might never see 'em again?"
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"Wonderful! There's certainly a lot to get up to around here. Mostly eating, admittedly." He lifts the corner of his mouth in a small smile before it disappears again. "I think it would be for the best if I didn't." He gives his shoulders a solemn shrug. "Even being family doesn't guarantee unconditional love."
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"No, it doesn't," he agrees, turning somber himself. "It oughtta but it don't."
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"I'd prefer it if they didn't interfere at all, really. It's hard enough to put on a show for the cameras, I'd rather not see photos of myself trying to throttle my brothers." It's said airily, a joke with a hint of truth.
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He shakes his head. "That bad, huh?"
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He smiles, but it fades fast. "I'm the youngest of thirteenth, all of us in line for a throne. It gets competitive." He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth to nibble at it for a moment. "And nasty."