The Patron Saint of Pranks
Ezra cannot be stopped
The castle is very quiet this cycle, aside from the tapping of Samuel’s shoes in the narrow hallway. Almost, dare he say, too quiet. His shoulders are tense, slightly raised, as he eyes the doorways as he passes them.
Usually, although it’s growing harder from him to remember, the castle is this quiet. But with the move in of Ezra, the dullness of his home has slowly started to fade. The halls are starting to echo with laughter all throughout the cycle, which there usually isn’t much of. It both makes him happy and sorrowful.
The back of his neck pricks with cold gazes staring after him. Usually it’s just some of the servants watching him pass by, but this time it doesn’t feel… right. He pauses to glance over his shoulder. The hallway is empty.
His brow furrowed, he continues to make his way to the dining room. It should still be early enough for eating but late enough for his father not to be there, if his timing is still on track. Has Ezra eaten yet? And Devin?
He licks his dry lips, silence still ringing in his ears, half wishing for it to be magicked away with a joyful cry.
“Are you sure this will work?” Devin asks.
“Of course!” Ezra replies with a full chest and a smile. He means it. He was one of the best pranksters on Mirage, and not one of his plans has failed him yet.
Still, Samuel’s guard looks upwards, at the contraption that Ezra has spent the very early light of the cycle putting together, with skepticism in his eyes.
While it’s not as much of an elaborate contraption by Ezra’s standards, it was certainly the most difficult one to put together as it is entirely attached to the ceiling. The plan is to try and prank Samuel via pouring a bucket of sand on his head - sand he has sourced from a couple of plates, which he promised to return later.
When Samuel opens the door, it will push a long stick attached to the back of it and knock forward a little ball on a track across the ceiling. It’ll enter a smaller bucket just big enough for the ball, and it’ll slide down a little further before getting tipped, spitting the ball out on yet another track, and this cycle repeats until the ball is eventually spat into a large bucket of sand that hangs over Samuel’s usual chair, tipping the bucket and spilling its contents all over the prince.
“Don’t worry, Dev,” Ezra grins, “it’ll work.”
“But what if-”
Immediately, Ezra presses a finger to Devin’s mouth.
“Don’t you dare start with the ‘what if’s,” he warns. Devin stares into the Creationist’s eyes for a brief moment, then slowly nods. Ezra retracts his hand and says, “Now we need to hide.”
“That part is easy,” Devin replies, promptly ceasing to exist in the spot he once stood in. Ezra, on the other hand, elects to turn himself into sand and spread his body throughout the room just thin enough for his particles not to be seen. He wants to see the full look of surprise on Samuel’s face.
And so he does just that, his figure bursting into orange sand and scattering to the four corners of the dining room, lining the shadowy corners and curling around his own contraption, making sure to place his eyes before Samuel’s chair.
The dining room falls silent as he waits for Samuel to walk through the dining room door. He doesn’t like silence all that much, but he must endure it this one time. It’ll be worth it. Yes, it’ll be so worth it.
The cycle slowly drags on beyond the cold castle walls, faint footsteps echoing around him. Every time they seem to grow louder, Ezra’s heart begins to race with eagerness. When they begin to fade, he almost wants to sigh in relief or shift around with worry. How long does it it take for the prince to walk to the dining room? He should know this castle like the back of his hand!
Finally, the door shifts, its hinges quietly creaking. His heart skips a beat, wherever it is in the room. Is it time? It should be time! But he doesn’t dare move his gaze from the prince’s chair, not even slightly.
The door opens, and there’s a soft ‘click’ as the stick hits the ball on the track high above. He can only hear it because that’s where his ears are, just to make sure that the ball would roll. So far, so good.
Eventually, Samuel strides into view, much to Ezra’s delight and probably much to Devin’s relief. The prince pauses behind his chair and looks around, appearing slightly confused. He was probably expecting to see his guard waiting for him, but really he could be thinking about anything. The longer he stands…
No, he’ll sit. He will, Ezra assures himself with confidence.
And, sure enough, with one last glance to his left and right, Samuel lets out a heavy sigh and slides into his chair, his gaze distant and down turned.
‘Chink’, ‘chink’, ‘chink’ goes the ball, his ears following it down the tracks, where it rolls into buckets and out of buckets and back in again. Still, Samuel doesn’t seem to notice anything, reaching out for some of the leftover food still on the table. Too bad that whatever he’ll get right now will wind up covered in plate-based sand, but sacrifices must be made. Besides, there’s still enough left over for another couple of servings.
‘Chink’, ‘chink’, ‘thump’.
The ball is in the bucket of sand now.
Samuel draws forward a small bowl of fruit slices and reaches for a fork lingering nearby. He stabs the fork through a bright red chunk and raises it up in front of his eyes, staring into it and, unknowingly, into Ezra’s own eyes staring back at him eagerly.
He pops the chunk into his mouth, and as he does his ears seem to perk up as the sand above his head begins to shift and spill over the side of the tipping bucket. A couple golden grains land in his lap, causing him to look upwards. It takes him a moment to process the tipping bucket as the cascade of sand quickly grows from a drip to a small, constant stream.
“Stars!” he yells, lunging out of his chair as the sand comes pouring down. No matter how hard he tries to get away in the last moment, sand still rains down on his clothes and legs at least, some of it still floating down into his hair and onto his face and he squeezes his eyes tightly shut to keep the grains out of him vision.
The shimmering of the falling sand slowly gives way to silence once more as the grains come to a rest on the table, chair, and floor. Small orange specks can be seen in the bowl of fruit as well, although not as much as Ezra has initially expected.
“Stars…” the prince breaths from the ground, sitting up and staring at his now-sandy seat. Once again, he looks upwards, at the bucket above him and the long, long track that he follows all the way back to the dining room’s door.
He scowls first, annoyed, probably also disappointed in himself for not being attentive. But that scowl slowly twists into a small smile of amusement at his own misfortune and maybe also at Ezra’s handiwork. But it’s a smile all the same, and that’s good enough for Ezra.
He lets out a chuckle as he draws the particles that make up his body together once more, grinning down on the prince as he floats above the table. Samuel turns to face the Creationist, annoyance now glowing in his eyes.
“I had a feeling it was you,” he huffs, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tries to wipe his smile away.
“It was worth it,” Ezra replies, beaming the entire time.
Devin blinks quietly into existence behind Samuel and speaks, “My apologies, Sam. I couldn’t resist.”
Samuel seems to jump in his skin as Devin speaks, clearly caught off guard as to his friend’s sudden appearance. As he lays eyes on his personal guard, he puts a hand on his heart and lets out a sigh of relief.
“So?” Ezra asks the two royals.
“I knew something was wrong,” Samuel mutters under his breath, his smile slowly starting to return. Devin just shakes his head.