Butch~

I blink lazily as Rita, our head of servants, screeches on about proper stances for our coronation. Her voice, high and shrilly, raises as she demonstrates different bows and echoes through the large chamber. Besides me, Boomer sits straight in his chair, his navy eyes locked tightly into Rita, watching as she explains each bow and whom to bow to. Besides him, Brick sits up straight, but his eyes are slightly beyond Rita, blankly staring at the wall.

It is stupid really. One, we've learned these poses since we were able to walk. And second, it's our coronation day. Shouldn't they be bowing to us, their new kings?

I yawn stupidly, drawing Rita's attention to my slouching form. I can tell by the slight fire burning behind her eyes, that she would love to slap me. Unfortunately for her, that's an offensive punishable by death, and I'd have no problem with that. Rita is a young girl, just slightly older than us with a head full of curly black locks and sharp blue eyes. Boomer loves her, probably a small crush, which is why she sucks up to him, but I could care less and Brick is too oblivious to notice anything.

"Prince Butch, could you please pay attention. It's under your father's orders that I do this for you," Rita says, her shrill voice straining even more. The sound makes me want to flinch, but I cover it with an easy smile I like to use on the female servants. I can tell it catches her slightly off guard.

"Rita, its King Butch now," I say with a deep chuckle. Rita scowls, all surprise wiped from her face.

"Not yet you're not," she responds in a low growl. I can feel Boomer and Brick's eyes on me, but I smile and stand, striding over to Rita. She's nearly a foot smaller than me, very small and scrawny compared to me. I head up to her, silently staring her down. Almost instantly she backs up, her voice shaky. "I mean no offense, sire."

I look down at her, her head bowed pitifully. I glance at my brothers, finding Brick getting up to leave and Boomer looking about ready to come over here. Although, he never will. I let loose a silent sigh and back away. "Of course you didn't." I say evenly, turning away quickly. She still hasn't lifted her head by the time I reach the door, finding Boomer there waiting for me.

"You didn't have to do that," Boomer says. I glance at him and walk by. However, he grabs my sleeve and jerks me to a stop. Instead of being angry, I smile and give a low laugh.

"Didn't i Boomer? Besides, what are you going to do about it?" I ask, turning my head to face him. Boomer's eyes are still narrow, but he makes no move towards me. I smile and tug my arm away, walking towards the stairwell to my bedroom. I'd I'm gonna do this, I gotta look good.

Buttercup~

I shuffle down through the crowded street, breathing out sorries as politely as I can muster. I bump into a few people, secretly slipping my hands into their pockets and I stumble to my footing. A few kind folks make the mistake of trying to catch me, offering even more opportunities. By the time I make it to the far side of the market I've got five gold coins, ten silver dollars, and thirty two copper.

I stuff the money into my trouser pockets, leaving only five copper clanking in my closed Palm. In this town, you're either a boy or a girl, or in my case, a little of both. Blossom and Bubbles prefer to wear a dress when pick-pocketing because they claim girls are more precious and more unlucky blokes would be substantial to help out. While I've seen this theory proven, I prefer trousers, button up top, and a newsboy cap u can stuff my hair into. For one, it is much easier to move around when you don't have some skirt in the way, and boys are expected to fall into people. It definitely isn't uncommon to find a boy tripping his way through a crowd, and I fit right in.

I walk up to a small street booth with fresh sugar buns steaming in the viewer box. Their aroma turns the head of many passers, and draws a decent sized line in. I slouch my shoulders instinctively, stuffing my hands into the depths of my pockets and fit myself between a few people. The man I cut opens his mouth to protest when he suddenly stops, taking in the sight of me. With these clothes on, I look like nothing more than some street beggars son, probably trying to steel himself something to eat. The man snickers quietly under his breath, probably expecting a good show of a naive attempt. I just smile kindly, tipping my hat to him, and trace the outlines of the gold coins.

When my turn arrives, i approach the stand. A tall, thick man by the name of Kinlo leans behind it, his bleary grey eyes sizing me up. I've seen him around, as tuff and stubborn as he looks, but his eyesight and coordination was thrown off after fighting in the war. Nerve problems no doubt. The slight twitch of his arm affirms my assumption.

After finally looking me up and down, he shifts slightly on the counter and meets my eyes. He doesn't seem startled at their color, but it doesn't surprise me. He probably lost color definition.

"You got money?" He asks in a thickly western accented voice. The west had been taken over by King Herti a few years ago. Most of the westerners were taken prisoner or as servants. Some of the lucky ones got here, although he wasn't trying too hard to hide his identity.

Instead of answering I pull up my hand with the five copper. Kinlo glances down, his eyes dials ting slightly before he nods. So he has some color differences. He turns away to get a fresh sugar bun, and I glance around. The man I cut looks slightly bummed, obviously disappointed he didn't get a show. I smirk and gently squeeze my fist, focusing on the vibrating life force of the ground and plants around me. In response I feel their energy suck into me, filling me with power. I smile and tap my foot inconspicuously against the ground. One large shake bursts through the streets, sending a spray of dust and shrieks. Another tap, another shake. Finally, I pound my foot into the ground, pulling out my arms to balance myself as the world around me sways. More cries and confused screams. People run all over in desperate attempts to escape the wrath of the earth. Kinlo gasps and ducks under the counter, probably having recollections of war. I walk over undisturbed and grab four buns. I turn to leave, stopping and placing the copper on the counter. With a smirk I walk out of the streets, carrying my four steaming buns and a few extra trinkets.

<

I walk through the narrow alleys, stepping over puddles and making my way towards our small home. It is a beggars home by description of the town, a very dangerous home in a dangerous part of town occupied by very dangerous people.

I step up to the door, half covered in shade from the parallel building. I reach forward and knock, listening as the vibrations from within flow seamlessly through my body. Not even two seconds later the door swings open, revealing a curious face. The girl the face belongs to instantly lights up upon seeing me, grabbing my arm and dragging me in. I manage to close the door behind me as Bubbles brings me over to a chair.

"Where were you?" She hisses as soon as I'm seated. She doesn't even bother to glance around for listening ears as she speaks, her anger too blinding.

"I was hungry," I say with a shrug, pulling out the buns, still slightly steaming despite the chilly spring weather. Bubbles looks down at them incredulously, then shoots her eyes up to mine with a sparking glare.

"Hungry? Buttercup, I could feel those shakes all the way here!" Bubbles gasps, her voice loud with anger. I shush her quietly, watching as she reluctantly closes her mouth.

"I just stole a few. Besides, everyone was too busy running around to see me," I reply with a small smile, remembering their futile fleeing. They are lucky that it was me and not something real. They'd really be screwed. the look on Bubbles face however, wipes the smile from my face. Her blue eyes, usually alight with joy and amusement, look dark in the dank lighting. "And, I got this."

I pull out the coins, counting them as I place them down. Forty seven exactly. I look up and watch as Bubbles' eyes land on the gold, how they widen slightly. Quickly she licks her lips and looks at me, although the anger is still there, it's duller and more subdued.

"It still wasn't safe," she says weakly, although it's obvious the argument has been won and dealt with. I smile fairly and hand her a gold coin.

"For good luck," I joke, laughing as she scrunches her nose at my mockery. Around here, people wear pendants of wispy lines from blue stone to represent the water goddess, the symbol of wealth and good fortune. Bubbles is a water spirit, yet she's gotta be the unluckiest person I know.

Bubbles lightly smacks my arm, but it's full of love. She leans over and grabs one bun from my hand, sniffing in the sweet aroma. Her eyes flutter as she sighs, taking a large bite of the doughy dessert.

"Delicious," she breathes out with a sigh. It wasn't often that we got a sweet grab like this. Not only do we have to keep ourselves healthy, we also have to provide energy. I usually rely on the ground, and Brandon gets his energy from the sun like a freakin' plant, but Blossom and Bubbles have a bit of a harder time. It barely ever snows here in Nova, the city of the sun, and you can forget about natural water. When Bubbles tried to take the energy from a fountain a few years ago it fought back and lashed at her. You can imagine she never tried that again. It's a weird thing, having your own element fight against you, but it's happened to all of us. Human interference is a pain.

"So where's pinky?" I ask, picking up my own bun. I would've asked where Brandon was as well if he hadn't informed me this morning about his trip up to check in on his family. Brandon isn't our brother, although he certainly feels like one. He just happens to posses an elemental ability and to cross our paths. It was luck, as Bubbles calls it. About the only piece of it we've had in a long time.

"She's trying to get some information on palace guards," Bubbles says nonchalantly, although I see the slight twitch in her shoulders. I know how Bubbles feels about guards and palaces, as they nearly carted her off once. They'd given her the long, thin scar that decorates her back, from right shoulder bade to left hip. Horrible thing, taken months to heal with Blossom continuously working on it.

"Palace guards?" I ask, slightly surprised. We usually stick off the topics of guards and royals, never ever getting ourselves involved with that. Too dangerous.

"Yes, she said something about news of the young Princes' coronation," Bubbles repeats, trying desperately to keep the hate out of her words. She fails miserably.

"A coronation? Are you saying we're going to be ruled by three of those baboons?" I ask incredulously, my eyes wide. Bubbles shushes me, warning me that my voice is too loud, but a small humorous smile lights her face.

"Until the eldest is married, which shouldn't be too long now," Bubbles says, settling back down and finishing off her bun, licking her fingers eagerly.

"The eldest?" I say, trying to think of which one that is.

"The serious one," Bubbles says without a flinch. It was Bubbles purpose to know her enemies back and front. She doesn't however say his name. Bad luck.

"Ah, yes. Hmm, I guess he wouldn't be horrible," I say, imagining the young redheaded Prince. He is fairly good looking, serious and smart. He shouldn't be too bad.

"Blossom won't be very happy with it," Bubbles says, hinting slightly that she agrees. I offer a snort of consent, leaning back contently in my seat.

"Since when does Blossom like anything that happens in this town?" I ask fairly. Bubbles frowns, tapping her chin to think. "What does she want to do with the coronation anyway? Isn't she the one who refuses to be acquainted with anything involving them?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out," Bubbles admits with a small sigh. Her blue eyes linger on the coins placed on the table. "You did good today."

"Thanks," I say, releasing a tight breath of air. Bubbles nods and goes back to staring blankly at the money, probably still thinking of Blossom.

"Wherever Pinky is," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "I hope she knows what she's doing."