Just a little person, one person in the sea...

Staying here, it hasn't... well, it hasn't exactly been uncomfortable, to Prince Todoroki's credit. At least, not after the first night. Not being able to leave, being, technically speaking, a prisoner of a curse that no one knows how to break (something else Izuku is helpless to cure or stop. The problems just keep piling, and there's no solution in sight.) and, well, just being stuck, it-- well, that part isn't great. In fact, Izuku really dislikes that part. He's tried to test the limits of this curse several times, tried to leave to no success, because it drives him crazy, being stuck here. He hates being stuck in place, he hates being unable to change his situation, he hates being helpless.

But, putting that aside, it's not all bad, really. The past few days have not been. Bad, necessarily. The palace is. Okay, Izuku can admit that it's really creepy. Especially at night, when he's alone in the room they set him up in. The stormy weather hasn't quite abated (Izuku is left wondering if that's a side effect of this mysterious curse too, if the weather in the general area can be affected by it. Or maybe it's just a rainy week. Izuku wouldn't know unless things changed.) The wind howls all throughout the night and rattles the windows, creating an eerie moaning sound. Like someone is crying, rattling at the windows, begging to be let in. It's disturbing, and makes it even more difficult to sleep; as if Izuku's racing mind wasn't cause enough for restlessness.

When the sky lightens enough for Izuku to see properly outside during the day, or step outside for some fresh air, it's all overgrown. He's seen Sero pass through the grounds, tending to them, and yet by the same time the very next day, all his work had been undone overnight. It's no wonder he thought the place was abandoned, especially at night. It's clear that the staff went through a lot of effort to tend to the palace and it's grounds, and yet, like stubborn weeds creeping over crops, the moment something gets fixed, something else seems to break.

He's free to wander where he likes, provided he doesn't approach or bother the Prince in his little wing of the castle (Izuku grows more curious by the day; despite being the one who ruled over this castle, and from what Izuku can gather, the heart of this mysterious curse; Izuku can count on one hand the number of times he's even seen him.) Whenever he walks into the grand hall, there's something disquieting about it. Maybe it's the way the room is so large, the cieling so tall, the stairs so grand and the fireplace seeming like it could be so welcoming; a place meant to house dozens, maybe hundreds, to entertain guests of high caliber and be filled with music and laughter; but instead it only contained one lonely peasant half-baked alchemist.

Or maybe it was the family portrait, framed with gold, hanging above the grand doors. What little Izuku could see of the painting was clearly high quality. The young face still remaining visible, though marred on one side, was smiling slightly, red and white hair neatly parted and hands clasped in front of him. There's a hand on his little shoulder, holding him so gently, but Izuku doesn't know who it belongs to. The rest of the portrait, and half of the boy's face, has been consumed by black, like someone spilled ink all over the canvas, or maybe like mold creeped over it until there was nothing left. Just... one lonely little boy, one you'd never know had someone else near him at all if it wasn't for that lingering hand, barely visible.

And there was something so disturbing about the way, whenever he tried to walk away, to leave, he'd end up ten paces back from whatever exit he'd tried to pass through, over and over again, with no memory of turning around or ending up there. It was enough to drive someone to madness. He has no idea how the residents of this castle aren't halfway there already. It's so easy to lose track of time, to lose where he once was or what he was trying to do. Izuku's been keeping a detailed journal, just to make sure he retains as many details as possible.

But. It wasn't all bad. Izuku could wander. The staff was friendly and kind, talking to him frequently, a spot of brightness admist this dark castle. Whenever one of them entered a room, it seemed just a little lighter in there, like the spots of sunlight trying to stretch through the dark clouds could reach through the window panes, simply by their presence. He had a comfortable place to sleep and he was kept well fed with good-tasting food (though Izuku drove himself half-crazy trying to understand how the magic in this place worked in such a way that they could have seemingly endless fresh food.). When you looked past the disrepair, or even when you looked directly at it, this place still had such a strange beauty about it. Stained glass windows, carved stone patterns, elegant finery, and stone patterns intertwined with thorny vines... Izuku kept himself busy, avoiding worrying too hard about his mentor, by walking from room to room, writing down every detail he could see in his journal.

There was, however, one other matter.

The prince himself.

Again, Izuku had barely seen him this entire time. Their few encounters, Prince Todoroki was brusque, cold, and seemed irritated with Izuku's precense. Which, fair enough, Izuku is a stranger in his home and did kinda-sorta-break in without meaning to but he really didn't mean to. And he certainly wasn't planning on staying. Izuku didn't know what to make of him, and quite honestly, was growing distinctly frustrated with no answers as to how to solve these problems. Everyone here may be content with staying right where they were, but Izuku wasn't, and it seemed the only one who could give him anything concrete to work with was Shoto himself. Up until now, speaking to him for more than a few moments seemed like an improbability at best, if not downright impossible.

And then, Izuku was invited to join him for dinner. It surprised him. He tried to ask Mina, who informed him of the invitation, why the Prince wanted to speak with him all of a sudden, but she had no more answers than he did. Or at least, it seemed, none she was willing to share. And so, Izuku found himself sitting at the end of a very large table, one, again, clearly meant to serve far more than the two sitting at it. Up until today Izuku had spent his meals with the staff, which was an informal, comfortable, and jovial affair. It was easy to get swept along in the high spirits of the group of them, joking and laughing and forgetting where he was.

This was stiff and formal and Izuku really didn't know what to make of it. He wasn't used to being waited on, by any means, and though Kaminari gave him encouraging little winks and Kirishima patted his shoulder at one point, it was still odd. The food was good, it always was, but nerves was making it hard to eat. Izuku kept glancing across the table, finding one ice blue and one stormy gray eye just... staring at him. Todoroki, though beastial in his form and almost cat-like in some of his mannerisms, still carried all the poise and power that Izuku would expect from a prince, and truth be told, that intimidated him far more than the sharp teeth or claws. And also the, uh, staring was really starting to freak him out.

It felt like Todoroki was searching for something, trying to pick out answers just by searching Izuku with his gaze, though Izuku wasn't even sure what questions he had. Several times, Izuku tried to strike up a conversation, nervously fidgeting with his silverware or his napkin and looking everywhere but at Todoroki. "It's, um, it's been getting a little lighter outside, I've noticed. I guess that storm's finally backing off. Hopefully it, um, doesn't come back again." Nothing.

A few minutes later he tried again, "The f-food's really nice. Um, thank you for inviting me to dinner, your, uh... majesty?" Izuku doesn't know how you're supposed to talk to a prince. He lives in a tiny fishing village. He does not, funnily enough, make a habit out of talking to princes. And still no response. Todoroki just... tilts his head a little at him and keeps staring.

Izuku's going to do something stupid at this rate just to get a reaction out of him, because those intense eyes are staring right into his soul, and it was really, really starting to freak him out. Finally, he decides that a direct approach would be best. "So, um... was there... something you wanted to talk to me about?" He dares to make eye contact for a few seconds, swallowing nervously. He'd like to think he's gotten better with his nerves, gotten more confident, as he's gotten older, but honestly, this whole situation makes him feel like the scrawny, anxious little thing he used to be.

There is a stranger--an intruder--in his castle. The knowledge sets Shoto's teeth on edge. Never before has someone new walked onto the grounds and fallen victim to his curse. The staff came with him, and it's always just been them. Never before has there been a newcomer in their midst. The rot in the grounds is worse now than it was in the preceding days, a product of the torrid emotions turning ceaselessly in Shoto's chest because of their new guest. The storm that rages on pours worse over the estate for the same reason. Just to spite his concentrated neutrality, Shoto's curse lays his every emotion bare. His frustration and hostility grow in the thorns that spread through the bramble patches; guilt he refuses to acknowledge manifests in the ivy that hugs the outer walls, growing higher and denser by the hour. Parts of the infrastructure deteriorate and crumble in its grasp. The dying gardens and forests, hosts to his perennial melancholy, grow sicker and sicker with the prince's increasing agitation.

He doesn't avoid Midoriya--intentionally. Shoto has long been reclusive, haunting only the wing of the castle that contains his room, the library, the study. When he elects to wander the estate, it's at odd hours where he knows he won't get in any of the servants' way and they won't get in his; when he does make appearances during the day, it's either for a necessary conversation or to watch the spirited affair of a meal from afar. Neither are frequent occurrences. Such has been his routine for more years than he can count anymore. Reclusiveness has become his nature. Shoto has only approached Midoriya once, to accept his presence at the door; otherwise, their interactions have been limited to sparing looks through the halls.

A few days pass, although slowly. As they do, the storm outside subsides. Shoto watches from his window as the torrent abates. The clear weather feels taunting. It begs Shoto to turn Midoriya back out into the world from whence he came, but he knows he cannot. Not as another victim of this wretched curse. The thought burns him. The clouds grow darker as the evening grows later, thick and heavy and dour, but no further rain spills from them. Shoto stands by his window, looking out at the darkening sky. When Ashido arrives a few hours before dinner to check on him, a request that's been turning over in his mind all day leaves his mouth: a formal summons calling Midoriya to dinner. Shoto wants answers as to what brought him here. Enough poachers and beast-hunters have encroached on his lands. Midoriya is neither of those things, he's certain--the scent of herbs and chemical work clings to him, so Shoto figures he must be an alchemist, or something very close--but the need to know who he's hosting remains.

The taste of Midoriya's nerves is thick in the air and sour on his tongue as they come together at the table. Shoto's tail twitches as he sits. He does not speak as they settle; he doesn't speak as dishes are served; he doesn't speak when most of his staff clears the room. He just levels his gaze on Midoriya, eyes raking through to the very heart of him. It isn't long before the silence becomes too much for his guest, and there begins the sputtered attempts at striking up a conversation. An ear twitches absently. Small talk is frivolous. He did not make the rare decision to attend, let alone host, a meal with the intention of talking about the weather. Still, he doesn't stop the attempts from coming. From afar, he's watched the meals Midoriya has taken with the staff: light-hearted, fun affairs. He settles in well with the servants. But this is different, Shoto understands. He is not a friendly face. He is a captor and beast before anything else; second to that, he is a prince. There is nothing welcoming or kind about him. So, despite his chagrin, he lets Midoriya prattle.

Shoto's head moves to the side and he continues to stare. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he files away the opinion that their food is good. Shoto's sense of taste and the appeal he finds in food have been dulled by time and apathy. He knows, objectively, that the statement--his staff is good, so of course their work in the kitchen is worth noting. The narrowing of Shoto's eyes is slight, almost missable, at the title Midoriya fumbles calling him. He's never liked being addressed that way. He's used to it, though, albeit only bitterly.

Eventually, Midoriya's eyes stop skirting around the room just long enough to catch his. He quits stumbling nonsense appeals and turns toward the point of their dinner with surprising directness. Shoto's expression does not shift, though his surprise does make an ear twitch. He rights his head and readjusts himself to sit straighter, even though his posture is already tall and proper. Several more minutes of silent staring stretch out between them. Shoto's eyes travel down to his untouched plate, which he spends a moment examining before looking up again.

"Your highness," he finally speaks, a cool correction. "'Your majesty' is the address for kings and queens." His gaze is unblinking, unrelenting. Shoto lets the information sit. Shoto's eyes remain on Midoriya for a heartbeat longer before traveling down again. He's careful with his fork and knife as he lifts them up, as they're unwieldly in his paws, but he's long since grown accustomed to using them. He cuts a piece of meat away and slowly raises it on his fork to take a bite. The food is good--moist and rich with flavor in a way he hadn't noticed in a very long time. Shoto blinks and refocuses. "That storm was pretty bad. Most people wouldn't have been out in weather like that." He says. His voice is icy, even though the words themselves are neutral. "So why were you?"

Izuku is hopeful when Todoroki rights himself again at his question, but when heavy silence bears down at them, he becomes convinced they'll spend this dinner staring at each other. Or, really, Izuku will spend it feeling prince Todoroki's gaze, somehow both cold and burning, digging into him all night. He loses what courage he'd built up and his eyes dart away again, refocusing on the plate in front of him as he fidgets with his fork and listens to the wind outside.

Suddenly he feels a pang; He wishes All Might was here. Toshinori could occasionally be his own brand of awkward, especially around his mom, but unlike Izuku he was also deeply charismatic, able to capture anyone's attention and make other people relax and feel comfortable around him. Even as his curse weakened his body and he was no longer able to hide it's physical effects, he had a way of making people feel safe that Izuku has been trying to emulate for as long as he can remember.  

But before Izuku could get too lost in nostalgic thoughts of home and family, Todoroki actually spoke up. Before processing his words, Izuku's brain reflected on just how nice of a voice Todoroki had; soft, deep, perfectly princely, if currently laced with an icy tone. Izuku's eyes snapped back up to meet the Prince's, widening a little, and then quickly dart away again as his cheeks heat up to turn red with embarrassment. He fidgets with his fork at a quicker speed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Todoroki's hands (paws?) move to eat as well, a little fascinated by the distinctly not-human features preforming such a human task. As he finds something to focus his eyes on he opens his mouth as words spill out almost without his permission. "Oh! Sorry," He squeaks, addressing first the correction to his attempts at proper ettqiutie. "I, um- my village is really small? I've never had any reason to really- yknow, learn a lot of this stuff, there's no, um, nobles or anything, so I've never, well, had a reason to call someone your highness before. No princes, or anything, ha..."

He doesn't register for a moment when his voice lowers, when he begins to mumble as his mind races quickly. "Well, yknow. Kids would sometimes pretend, and stuff, to be princes or princesses, especially Kacchan, but that doesn't really count and I read about this stuff in books but it's all fictional so I don't really know.." He pauses, registers his hand tucked under his chin, and quickly shakes his head, pulling his hand away. "Sorry!" He squeaks again. "Bad habit. The um, the mumbling, I mean. Sorry. Um!"

He shakes his head quickly and glances up, running a hand anxiously through his curls before he realizes that's probably not very polite to do at a dinner table and quickly dropping his hand. Before he could continue down his spiraling thought path, Todoroki has something else to say, and this time, a question. He blinks, wide eyed and still flushed, and fidgets with the edge of his napkin under the table now.

"Oh," He says. "Well, that's um, a bit of a longer story." He glances over once more to find expectant gray and blue eyes, so he pushes forward. "The truth is I couldnt really afford to turn around. Even when i noticed the bad weather coming I figured I'd find shelter or just- bear through it. I um, well, I guess the short explanation is that I'm trying to-- ironically-- learn about curses. Specifically how to help them. I had no idea about," Izuku gestures around him, "Any of this, honest, but that's why I was travelling in the first place."

"Um, I'm an alchemist. Mostly a healer. I learned my trade from my mom so it's all family knowledge passed down through generations. My village is really small, like, not even on the map kind of small." Izuku's set down his fork by now because he's started talking with his hands, and he doesn't want to accidentally fling the utensil in his attempts to communicate. "So not much happens. But we do have someone special that lives with us." Up, down, his fingers curl and twist as he speaks, emotive and emphatic.

"Um, Toshinori Yagi. Or, um, his adventurers name, All Might. He's an adventurer! Or he was. And a really good one too. And my home is where he's from, so I grew up learning about him and hearing legends about him. I always wanted to be an adventurer like him. And when I was a teenager he retired and came back to live at home, and when we met he um, decided to take me under his wing, I guess." A tiny shrug-- it's something he'll never understand, just what All Might saw in him."

"He um, taught me a lot about the world and about adventuring and fighting. He kind of, um." Izuku mumbles this part. "Became a part of my family, in a lot of ways. And then I found out that he's sick. Um, really sick. He was cursed, by someone really powerful, and he's probably going to die in the next few years. My mom and I found ways to make things easier on him, you know? Less painful." Izuku twists his fingers around themselves, running his hands over his scars. "But we couldn't cure it. Or stop it from progressing. And every year he gets weaker. And he says it's okay, that he's made his peace with his future but um." He bites his lip hard, and for a moment the warm, if nervous, smile gives way to something more serious and drawn. "I haven't, so." The expression change fades as fast as it came.

Izuku shrugs and lifts his gaze once more. "So I've been researching. Ever since I left home I've been trying to find more information and learn more about alchemy and magic and curses to find if there's something I can do, you know? And so that's why I can't really afford to...stop or slow down or worry about something like storms." He does a vague sort of gesture with his hands. "So. Um. Yeah. It probably wasn't my best idea to keep pushing forward but I was already a while away from the last village and I figured I'd lose so much progress if I doubled back..." He trails off. "It was pretty foolish of me I suppose. I should've known better."

Then, "Sorry. Um. Again. For trespassing. I didn't mean to cause any problems, honestly." Another short pause as he tries to reflect on everything he just said, and then he winces a little and says, "Sorry, also, for, um. Rambling. That was probably. More than you asked for." He gives a nervous little laugh. "But...yeah. That is...why I am here..." He trails off once again and makes an attempt at a smile.

He can't read Todoroki's expression, if it's annoyed or sympathetic or angry. It makes him nervous to try. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth and worries it until it's sore, wishing he had even an ounce of that All Might confidence or way with words so he could act like less of a bumbling fool.