Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Accent-dent

It had been a complete accident. Or perhaps, more accurately, an accent-dent.

Wheeler had panicked and the only thing he could think of was Mulock talking about accents and then it had just...well...slipped out.

Priscilla's parents were both staring at him and all Wheeler could do was simply stare back, wanting nothing more than to just sink into the floor and die.

That's when, to his surprise, Priscilla's mother suddenly gasped. "My," she squealed, "I had no idea the Western Isles had such a beautiful drawl!" She grabbed hold of her husbands arm, nuzzling against him. "Hear that, sweetie? That's the accent of a man with class!"

"Ah, yes. Zat iz I. Ze classiest man alive, Frederico Hillyram--"

Prsicilla gave him a sharp nudge to the gut. "Hillingham," she hissed.

Wheeler faked a cough. "Err...did you know zat I, Frederico Hillingham, was voted classiest man alive?"

"Really?" Lady Packwood gaped. "By who?"

Oh no, he hadn't thought that far.

"Um...ze people of ze Isles. All of zem. All ze Isles. You know how zey are...those...uh...Islers. Always voting and ranking people."

"Well, I say, " Priscilla's mother exclaimed, taking a dainty sip from her champagne glass. "I'm thrilled to see my sweet little Prissy is being escorted by such a renowned man this evening."

"Frederico is also very wealthy," Priscilla said, hooking her arm with Wheeler's. "Aren't you, Frederico?"

"Ah, yes," Wheeler replied, attempting to deepen his voice. "I, Frederico Hillingham, am indeed exceptionally wealthy. Sometimes I just spend days counting my coins. You know, one after ze other. It iz quite relaxing."

"I do the same thing, my lad," lord Packwood exclaimed, giving him a slap on the back so hearty it nearly sent Wheeler toppling over.

"So," lady Packwood said, her gaze flitting between them. "The two of you are courting?"

"Yes," Wheeler replied. "We met when we both tried to buy ze same bow at a clothing market. It's been true love since. Right, my lovely little um..." he tried to think of some kind of nickname for her. "Bow-aconstrictor?" No one reacted. "I call her zat because she likes bows and also um..." What else did boa constrictors do? "Also because...err...she choked me."

Everyone gasped.

"Not sexually!" Wheeler blurted, frantically trying to dig himself out of the hole he'd just flung himself into. "Err...she choked me in ze struggle to get ze bow. She's got quite ze grip, your daughter."

Priscilla looked like she wanted to die.

"Nothing wrong with liking things a little rough," lord Packwood boomed. "You know, if that little incident made the two of you discover anything..." he wiggled his eyebrows. "The old wifey and I might have a few items you could borrow." The parents giggled at this, all while Priscilla and Wheeler looked just about ready to vomit.

Priscilla's mother glanced them over now, her smile widening. "A love for bows, wealth, class, and not afraid to get a little...well..." she giggled again, "adventurous. Mister Hillingham, you really seem to have it all."

"Yes, I suppose I, Frederico Hillingham, really do."

"Then let us hope," lady Packwood cooed, "there might be some wedding bells in the future--"

She was cut off by the sound of the ballroom's doors swinging open, revealing the figure behind them. The party grew silent for a moment before a series of excited voices began to sound, masses of partygoers rushing to swarm the young man who'd just entered.

"Peter!" Priscilla's mother gasped. "He's finally here!"

As if they just expected Priscilla and Wheeler to follow, both parents immediately took off racing to join the growing crowd that surrounded the fabled Peter Packwood.

"Well," Priscilla said, "I'll feel like a jerk if I don't at least go to greet him." The two exchanged a glance before quickly moving to join the flood of people congregated around Priscilla's brother.

Peter was dressed in the deep blue robes that signified a royal mage, happily shaking hands and exchanging greetings with everyone around him. He was handsome, tight golden curls, almost identical to Priscilla's, framing an angelic face.

"Peter," Priscilla's father called. "How was the capital?"

"Wonderful, Father," Peter said. "Everyone is amazing there. The Grand Emperor and the royal mages are all so kind. It's everything I'd ever hoped for. Life there couldn't be more perfect."

Despite his words, his voice sounded strangely distant. Wheeler couldn't help but find it oddly reminiscent of the way his mother used to talk.

Peter was smiling, but the more Wheeler watched him, the more he began to realize that it stayed stiffly in place.

He felt Priscilla tense beside him.

"Is everything okay?" Wheeler asked nervously.

Priscilla offered him a stiff nod. "Yeah." She was staring intently at her brother, who was still happily engaging with the crowd around him. "He just seems...different." She shifted uncomfortably. "I know that sounds weird. He's always pleasant and nice like this. It's just the way he's speaking...it doesn't feel like Peter." She shook her head. "Then again, it's been nearly a year since I've seen him. I probably shouldn't be surprised he's changed." She laughed, the sound forced and awkward. "Maybe I should just wait and talk to him later. He seems pretty busy with his admirers right now, my parents included. And speaking of...I think by some miracle we actually pulled this off."

"Yeah," Wheeler replied. "Especially after that whole boa constrictor thing." Priscilla's eyes narrowed. "Which I am so, so very sorry for," he quickly added.

"Well then," Priscilla said, placing her hands on her hips, "now that my parents are distracted, do you think I should try and find Frances?"

Wheeler nodded excitedly. "Yeah! You've got to find out what the birthday gift is!" He gasped. "Ooooh, what if it's a kiss?"

Priscilla's eyes went wide. "Ohmygosh, what if it is?!"

"You have to go!"

"Yeah! I have to!" Priscilla began to turn but abruptly froze. "Then again, maybe I shouldn't." Her gaze flickered to the floor. "I'd feel awful just leaving you here."

"Oh, don't worry about me," Wheeler said cheerfully. "There's actually something else I was hoping to do tonight, anyways!"

"Really?" Priscilla asked, arching a brow. "What?"

"Well," Wheeler said, smiling softly. "A very dear friend of mine happens to owe me a dance."