a Cruel Infatuation

Cruel World

Tybalt Capp wanted to kill Mercutio Monty.
He was fucking sick of him. The way he walked around Veronaville thinking he was the hottest guy in the world, that tangled mass of ashy black hair he loved swaying just to show off, that obnoxious smirk he would give to everyone-and Tybalt especially-telling them what an arrogant prick he was. Tybalt absolutely hated him with every fibre of his being and he wanted to kill him. He had ever since they were kids at age ten-for nine long years. Tybalt was going to fucking kill Mercutio.

The gathering at the Capp manor was going well so far. So far, no Mercutio, or a single one of those scum from the Monty side of town, which was good. Almost all the Capps were there-Tybalt recognised his aunts, Goneril and Reagan, and their respective husbands, Albany and Cornwall. There was his uncle Kent, standing by the drinks table and drinking by himself awkwardly. His cousin and Goneril's eldest daughter Miranda was standing with a drink nearby, looking bored to death in a short, black and white spaghetti strap dress Goneril probably disapproved of. Among the crowd of other family members he embarrassingly couldn't quite remember, pouring each other drinks and exchanging conversations, he bumped into his younger sister Juliette. The well-loved star girl of the Capp clan. She had a cascade of long red hair, of the same fiery shade as Tybalt and his other sister Hermia, and wore a blue crop top and short pink skirt. She had just finished a fruit punch and was putting the glass down on the table when Tybalt had appeared.

"Juliette," he greeted her.

"Oh hey, Tybalt," she replied with a smile. She seemed distant though-like she was hiding something. Tybalt was obviously not going to let that pass.

"So what are you doing now, Juliette?" he questioned just as Juliette was about to head up the stairs to her room, hiding his suspicion behind an emotionless face.

"I'm tired so I'm heading to bed. Parties aren't really my thing anyway. What, Tybalt?" She looked at him with eyebrows raised. Tybalt had obviously failed to hide that note of concern he had.

"Well you know... just making sure you're not doing anything in secret. Like seeing Romeo Monty behind our family's back," he glared at her accusingly.

"Oh shut up Tybalt. Not everything is about Romeo and Mercutio and the Montys," she said, rolling her eyes. I'm going upstairs because i'm tired. Now don't follow me-or watch me," she added with one last accusatory glance before heading up the stairs.

Tybalt, still convinced that something was going on, didn't listen of course.

He wasn't going to follow her upstairs but he was going to look up at her room from the outside, on the grounds. Romeo Monty had become quite good at climbing the walls of the Capp Manor. This wasn't the first time. Tybalt loathed the way Juliette stepped all over the Capp name in this way. Having clandestine meetings with a boy from the very same family that had murdered their parents, and many other members of their family. Did she have no respect for them at all?

The vast grounds of the Capp manor was a noticeable landmark in the Veronaville countryside, the lush green of the gardens sprawling all around the tudor-style walls of the manor itself. Several flowerbeds splashed the outside with purple, pink, red and yellow and the sections of uncut meadow grass between them all swayed in the gentle breeze. On one side of the manor was a fenced area enclosing a graveyard and a small crypt, where the Capp family's deceased lay-many of them victims of the feud, including Tybalt's own parents. The other side had the beginnings of a forest, a lone oak tree towering by itself with an over a dozen other trees further back. Walking onto the grounds was like walking into a faerie garden. Which wasn't far off for Veronaville.

As Tybalt walked amongst the trees heading for the side of the house where Romeo would break in to Juliette's bedroom, he noticed two figures amongst the dark shape of some bushes. Their laughter echoed in the air and he couldn't help but investigate. Both of them had short, slightly unkempt red hair. The shorter one was wearing a purple crop top, jeans and black doc martens and was embracing and smiling up at the other happily. The other was wearing shorts and a brown coat over a yellow flowery shirt, looking down at the other with that same happiness. They also sparkled-literally sparked, their pale skin glowing like a beacon in the night. If one looked closely enough, which Tybalt was, they could see two distinct, delicate points to their ears. And if they looked even more closely, they would have seen the outline of the peacock butterfly wings sprouting from under their shirt.