Fantasy 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖚𝖘 - 𝖎𝖈

[ravensunset]

THE PRINCESS.

The crash cut through Violetta’s words, or rather, smashed through them, not a knife but a sledgehammer, noise and chaos flying through the room with the broken glass.

A chandelier? The color drained from the princess’ face. That wasn’t possible. Well, maybe it wasn’t impossible, for a chandelier to fall, in the strictest definition of the word, but it couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now. Violetta reached out for the hand of a ghost, who could not answer her, for leaders who were not there.

Fine, a chandelier. She’d get the guests out to the dining room, she’d. The ground shook, her feet shifting in a desperate attempt to keep balanced. A bit of dust fell loose from the ceiling, floating down around them.

“Everything’s shaking. It’s too loud.” A woman had made her way to Violetta, stumbled through a curtsy, expecting her to help. A pair of dark eyes staring directly into hers. Was this her job now? Violetta wanted to scream, join in the crowd’s sound, she didn’t know what to do better than anyone else.

But she couldn’t. Dario’s voice, loud and sharp beside her, seemed to only want to increase the panic, the fae’s expressions shifting but offering no help, only something between a provocation and a threat. He pointed upwards, and almost on command, a column shifted, on its way towards them.

Violetta grabbed the arm of the woman looking at her, mirroring the motion she had just shied of doing, and started making her way through the crowd. Most of it was frozen in fear, or rushing through the main entrance of the ballroom, leaving it entirely blocked. She dragged the pair to a curtain, slipping into the hallway hidden behind it.

Was it wrong? Leaving the rest of the guests like this? Wasn’t she in charge, meant to lead them, not run like a coward? Another crash sounded behind her. She couldn’t dwell on it. Violetta’s hope that getting out of the ballroom would be good enough crashed down as she felt another shake run through the hallway, having to reach out to the wall to keep upright. Almost instinctively, a hand reached up to her tiara, ensuring it was still fixed between locks of hair. She continued, as fast as the constraints of the layered dress and heels allowed her, through the hallway, taking two turns before reaching a door that led outside.

The air was cold as it rushed inside, pulling against Violetta as she stumbled out. They exited on the side of the castle, and perhaps thankfully, the ground outside seemed still.

The castle in front of her was age-old. It had hosted generation after generation of monarchs, and countless residents. Countless lives lived. The stones were old, the stories of their carving lost to legend, and they were always cold, but they remembered the handprints and the dust covering them. A tower fell, collapsing inwards, crashing onto stone roof.

“There’s-” When Violetta attempted to speak, her usual smooth voice came out high pitched, too fast. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, but she knew she couldn’t will the panic away. Were the king and queen still inside? Dianthe was, wasn’t she, Violetta had lost her in the crowd- “There’s a settlement not far outside the walls, we’ll go get help from those there-” Violetta searched the faces of the two she’d ended up beside, looking for any kind of affirmation to her words, the actions she’d taken. She took a shaky step away from the castle, everything inside her fighting to ignore the sounds still booming from inside it.



tags: hery blue-jay

 

[.V1LLAINISM._]

.DRAKON.

THE SNAKE PRINCE.
​

Drakon is a stranger to most things these days. Call it naïveté, call it a consequence .. In the end, both are entirely correct. For he is an awkward thing, like a doe rising on its hooves for the very first time, feeling the weight of itself, realizing its own existence. Clambering, stumbling in the company of the well-versed. At his worst he often pictures himself resembling quite the fool and well, right now he very much did. The prince blinked. A slight red hue draping across his cheeks.
Inwardly he cursed at his own child-like haste, angry from marching right up to the woman and greedily fawning over her hound. Not once had he alluded to his title, his name, much less what he represented- No. Nada. Zilch. He could’ve been a brigand for all she knew and for that, he was apologetic, albeit a little sour with himself.
“Oh I.. Apologize.” He chuckled bashfully, a large hand gingerly scratching at the nape of his neck. The rouge seemed to deepen for a moment, pricking at the tips of his ears before settling back down, the memory of his mother’s words echoing underneath the intonation of his voice
‘Be strong. Be steel.’
And just like that, the facade returned.
He couldn’t afford anymore mishaps, lest he wished others to think that his kingdom, that he, was weak.
And so, clearing his throat with an abrupt ‘ahem,’ the prince shifted to stand taller, braver, the shy smile worn on his face now a thing of the past.

“I am Prince-“

A crack. And then several. A proud interruption, confident in ways he never could be. The ground shook beneath their very feet, cutlery clattering, glasses smashing and guests succumbing. It was as if there were an epic battle performing right before their eyes, a fight between ballroom and man.
A gasp here, a shriek there and all the oaf could do was stand, stand some more and stare. His mouth fell agape- and comically so, for it seemed that just when things couldn’t get any worse, things got so much worse.
This? THIS was what he’d dreamt of returning to?!
You’ve got to be kidding me.

His eyes sauntered from person to person, unable to remain in one corner for a second too long. Unable to process just what was occurring. He watched as a young woman tumbled to her knees in front of his two of his affiliates, one of which seemed to pay no mind to the chaos around them. Drakon was more or less the same, only, frozen with shock. Until he began to feel it too. His legs, long as they were, began an unwilling descent against polished floors, nearly relinquishing him of all composition. No. No no no! He was not going to let that happen. Forgetting to introduce himself? Fine, it occurs upon occasion, but falling in front of the same woman? Why he’d rather get sucked into whatever big black mass right this instant! The heir planted his feet as tautly as he could, waking his instincts with the threat of humiliation, a man in his true essence.
But It was only a matter of time until his side of the ballroom recieved its due. A small crumble from above and the snake prince was signalled to a fate far worse than falling on his rump. With not another thought he grabbed at the young princess, adrenaline, hot and fiery coursing through his veins. Like snowflakes the pillar, once high and mighty fell to its demise, each piece of rubble a more resounding finale than the last. There was a symbol in there somewhere, there had to be.
The ruins had hardly missed them, grazing a single strand of hair as he yanked the ever eccentric Princess Dianthe from right under its nose and along with her, the pup. My, Pocket really did follow her wherever she went, didn’t he?

The landing was anything but composed, graceful in the way they were meant to be. Nay, the two were but a whirlwind of appendages colliding with jagged floors, sliced with rubble and coated in ash. Drakon winced at the harsh impact, hip blazing in agony. He always knew his leg would never quite recover but that, well that solidified it. Raising to a shaky stand, the prince fell into a violent coughing fit, smoke clearing and dust beginning to settle, illuminating none other than the young princess herself. When he saw that she was still alive, that she was still breathing, he was met with instant relief, thankful that they’d been able to escape such terrible luck… For now at least. Luckily for them It didn’t just end there, the ballroom was still shaking, the people still screaming and all they could do about it was save themselves. He held out a hand, hoping that she’d accept.
​

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[erzulie]

scroll

Half-Fae

Dianthe.

mood

pathetic, distressed.

outfit

「1」

location

secret garden.

interactions

mysterious prince

tags

.V1LLAINISM._

Pocket was thrown into a frenzy just as the chandelier fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. The young princess was not too far behind him, her feelings of amusement and intrigue were abruptly yanked from her and she was left spiraling. The world around her rumbled, shook as if some great god had sent down their wrath. Around her people screamed and fled. It was funny how similar they all were during the chaos. There was no use for status now, servants and nobles alike fled for their lives. All wore looks of terror on their faces. Her eyes darted about, looking amongst the crowd of fleeing individuals. Now, it was hard to tell fae from human. In their fear, they were all the same.

Dianthe knew that she needed to move, to flee like the crowd around her. Yet she could not force her limbs to cooperate. Her body held all the likeness of a statue while her mind processed. She didn’t understand why her world was crumbling around her once again. It had been a mental thing months ago and now it was a physical thing, she could feel it in the way the ground shook and the building around fell before her eyes. The sounds around her were merely background noise.

What was going on? Where was her mother? She needed her now, she didn’t want to be alone here. She didn’t like the fear that confused her, it slithered down her spine and seemed to wrap around her in a Vice like grip. She didn’t know what to do, she felt like such a child. Like a helpless thing rather than the cunning princess she had thought herself to be. Her stomach dropped without her knowing why, something was happening behind her and yet she still could not move. Dianthe was reminded of her dream again. If she turned, would he be standing behind her? She didn’t want to look, she couldn’t and so she squeezed her eyes shut.

Her shriek was muffled by the cries of the crowd, she could feel something, someone pulling her again. There was dust flying around, pieces of debris quickly filling up the floor around her. Her impact was only softened by the dress she wore, the fabrics cushioned her fall and for that she was grateful. Her eyes slowly opened, it was not her brother who was before her. Wide brown eyes seemed to become impossibly wider while she gazed at the stranger from before. He stood before her, hand outstretched.

Dianthe’s gaze was of one akin to awe, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Perhaps it was the madness of her surroundings but was there a light emitting from him. With one hand on the floor, she reached for him. Her small hand shook once she clasped it in his. Dianthe pulled herself up, only to fall once more. Panic consumed her. Why couldn’t she move?

Whipping her head back she found the source, her dress was caught beneath a fallen pillar, one that she could have been laying beneath. The sight called to something within her and her brows furrowed. The princess ripped her hand out of the strangers, making quick work of her gown. It came away after a few forceful tugs. With swift fingers she crawled out from the fabric and followed with more of the restricting items, there was no use of appearances here. She couldn’t run while being weighed down by lavish clothing.

She felt better now, weightless even. Dianthe grabbed the stranger’s hand once again. “Follow me.” She uttered before taking off. She would help him as he did her, she knew of a safe place where they could go.

Dianthe was swift, her feet almost floating while she led him away. Pocket kept pace with them easily. Through dark corridors and various passages the thre of them went, soon they were out into the woods and after that, they reached a natural entrance formed by trees. There was only one other person that knew of this place, yet his was gone.

It was a garden, a magnificent place with flourishing plant life, a small pound with a connected waterfall. There was a peace about it, far different from where they had fled from. It was her own little slice of Heaven.

Once safely inside she let go of the stranger, no the prince. She could only look at him, stare at the man who had saved her. “Th…Thank you.” Her tone was a tad breathless, though it was not from the running she had just done. Dianthe straightened up, openly trying to pull herself together. Again she looked at him, her tone soft. “I do hope that you haven’t hurt yourself too bad. Ball gowns are excellent for softening falls but I can’t say that same for your clothing…” She looked him over.

Dianthe stood stiffly and turned her back quickly. “This is one of the safest places that I know of…I’m the only one that knows of this place. It’s a safe distance away from…whatever is going on so please feel free to rest for a short while.” There was a soft sniffle. Beside her, Pocket whined again.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[GracingGravity]

Distressed
Fae Court
❛ Aisling, Kata, Silas ❜

this scrolls too btw just in case the text overflows

✦ Leilia ✦​

Silence. Complete and all encompassing silence envelops the ballroom, the fae seem to freeze in place staring at something Leilia had her back turned toward. The scent of fear stuffed itself up her nose, invading every one of her senses bringing tears to her eyes from the intensity. Her limbs seem as if they're locked in place, her movements slow as if trapped in honey. The queen’s tongue heavy in her mouth she can’t help but stay frozen as the others, in this moment of overwhelming fear and dread.

Finally after what seems like years but really is only a few moments the silence breaks and everything moves at once. Fae run and scream, some toward a body, others toward the exits. Yet as the room erupted into chaos Leilia remained frozen in place unable to soothe her racing mind that held her rooted in place with fear shackling its way around her ankles, chaining her in place. In her many decades of ruling over the fae she had never dealt with anything like this. Such raw fear this room held and all she could do as their leader was remain frozen in place, afraid to turn her head and behold what had caused so much terror in a place of seemingly fearless immortals.

But as soon as it had appeared it was gone, Leilia pushed her crippling fear deep, deep down until it was just a whisper in the back of her mind. Turning, the queen allowed herself one single look at the decrepit body before lifting her chin. Taking a deep breath she forced her voice to be steady and strong as she addressed the remaining fae.

“It would seem that this night must end early and for that I am deeply sorry. I know how much you all enjoy the festivities of these grandeur balls. However I will ask that you all calmly exit the ballroom and return home.” Leilia announced, her voice holding an authority that left no room for argument. She didn’t offer any information or kind words to ease their minds, because she didn’t have any. She didn’t know what was going on and she certainly could not think of clever enough wording in this instance to put her court’s mind at ease while having the inability to lie as all fae did. So she didn’t address the issue at all, she simply glazed over it, trying to make it seem as insignificant as possible.

Once satisfied with the amount of fae exiting the queen allowed herself another look at the body within the center of the room, but by this time the body had already been covered with a cloth. This sent a wave of relief flooding through Leilia as she moved toward the servant who was now adjusting the drape to cover the once beautiful fae completely from view. She noted that the male was human as she drew closer, a rush of white hot rage rushing through her at the realization. Typically the human servants here were kept out of her sigh, per her own request. The female just simply could not stand the sight of the despicable creatures, even after all this time the very sight of them sent a bombardment of emotions rushing through her. Though the queen’s indifferent mask did not falter, her eyes burned with distaste as she stood next to the human.

“Find some help and bring the body down to the dungeons” she commanded, her voice a barely audible whisper next to the servant’s ear. Normally the body would be prepared for a ceremony but she needed to get a closer look at this fae turned dead hag in the privacy of the underkeep. Leilia had absolutely no idea how this could’ve happened or who was behind it but at this moment there were very few people she could trust wholly, and even less so she wanted to have access to this body. With one final look at the cloth covered figure Leilia stalked away, her eyes blazing with rage, not from having to address a human, no, but from this treachery in her court. Someone must have sent the girl here to spread this disease, or perhaps the girl had planned this elaborate charade herself. Whatever origin this mystery had Leilia would get to the bottom of it and she wouldn’t hesitate to cut off a few heads to get the information she so desperately desired. With eyes so dark they seemed to devor light itself Leilia continued to walk through the halls, giving direction to different servants as she went, ultimately aiming toward her rooms.

First order of business would be to write to Dario, she needed to know if he thought the human court could have anything to do with this because if so she would not hesitate to destroy them all. She would burn them all to the ground if she had to, but deep down she knew she couldn’t just assume. So she dipped her pen into the ink and began to write a brief letter to her ambassador, forgoing formality she got straight to the point. Summarizing what had occurred at tonight's ball and asking if he had any knowledge of who could be behind such atrocity.

As Leilia wrote she hoped Aisling would seek her out, she hadn’t thought to look for her in the chaos and by the time it had crossed her mind her little spy was nowhere to be seen. The queen wasn’t worried, but she needed to speak to Aisling, the sneaky little thing could have seen something she could’ve missed or maybe had heard something she hadn’t. Regardless, Aisling was one the few within her court she wholeheartedly trusted, and maybe the only one within her court. Plus the queen wanted Aisling to accompany her to get a better look at the body, she didn’t want to go alone, though she would, she hoped she wouldn’t have to.

The brief glimpse Leilia had caught of the hag-like creature Kata had turned into was one she wished she could scrub from her memory. A beautiful fae suddenly aged in a matter of seconds only to drop dead in the middle of a ballroom. Not exactly a scene one wishes to remember. But the image seemed to burn itself into Leilia’s mind and it was all she could do to keep her pen from shaking in her hand as she continued to write to Dario.

Dread had settled into Leilia’s chest like a boulder, keeping her short of breath. She couldn’t shake the bad feeling the events of tonight had left her with, yet she couldn’t recall the night with enough clarity to really make a good conclusion about what exactly had happened. Her back had been turned to Kata when she had gone down, so she hadn’t seen the transformation, only heard shaken whispers from the servants as she had walked the halls to her rooms. But the imminent terror remained in the back of her mind, lashing at the cage she had forced it into earlier. If she wasn’t careful the fear would wrap it’s dark little tendrils around her throat and suffocate her.

Shaking her head, Lealia stood from her desk calling a servant in to take care of getting the letter to Dario, she could wait no longer to go and look at this body. The suspense was eating away at her more than the fear and she couldn’t let these feelings make a meal of her. She is a queen after all, it’s time she acts like one and figures out what the hell is going on.

 

[ThatSassyWeirdo]

Lorelei

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  Watching the dancers in the ballroom
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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  interactions

  
  
  
  

  Whoever wants to be bumped into by Lorelei and mentioned @GracingGravity
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

The sound of an apology struck Lorelei’s ears and she found herself staring at the curious creature she bumped into for a long moment. They were apologizing to her? Certainly that was a mistake as she was the one not paying attention. She was also far from being graceful so it was obviously her fault, wasn’t it? Finally she let out a giggle and shook her head at the strange, beautiful being. Wait, were they human? How fascinating!

”Oh please, do not apologize! I’m the one that wasn’t paying attention. I’m quite clumsy with these legs, you see.”

It was at this moment that Lorelei noticed people crowding around her and the victim of her uncoordinated dancing. They seemed to be quite enthralled with this person, but Lorelei picked up quickly on how uncomfortable Semael was. She glanced at those gathering, her stare turning into a glare.

”If you would all be so kind to back up and give us some space please, you…swarm of sharks! Shoo!”

She said, irritation clear as she waved them all away.

Fortunately for her, rather unfortunate for the victim, something else seemed to grab the attention of the crowd. It even grabbed her attention as she watched the young Fae girl rapidly grow into a hag. Lorelei would be lying if she said she didn’t feel any fear at the sight. Fae weren’t supposed to grow old, after all, but she also found some fascination in it as well. This wasn’t her first time witnessing something similar to this, though her experience was much slower. It was her own mother beginning to deteriorate like this that drew her in search of the isle’s gem. Was this what her mother was to become if she couldn’t get the magic relic of her island back?

Panicked screaming registered in the back of her mind and she’d been ran into a couple times, but something pulled her forward. She took one step, then another slowly towards the now covered figure. She also heard someone telling her to back up, but she didn’t quite listen. No, she needed to know more. What had caused this to happen? It was the queen stepping up to the servant that covered the body and blocking Lorelei’s vision that caused her to halt. She was pulled out of her trance and she glanced around briefly. The queen seemed to say something to the servant and Lorelei could only guess she wanted the body removed. So Lorelei waited a moment until the queen was gone before stepping up to Silas.

”Are you going to remove the body? May I help you?”

She asked him, not realizing it wasn’t entirely proper of her. Nonetheless she wished to learn more and discovering where they were going to go with the body was the first step.

round and round

erutan

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[mother of sorrows]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐀, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃-𝐓𝐎-𝐁𝐄.

For a moment there was the queen.

Silence stifled the hall like a cruel step-mother with a pillow over a babe's head, waiting for just the right moment when it opens it's eyes; the quiet cleared it's throat, tapped it's feet, turned it's head. Quiet looked at silence and it looked back, exchanging an awkward glance. She seems to bring them everywhere she goes, the queen, like two ladies-in-waiting curling at her feet for attention. Aisling hung off their arm like meat off a hook, stiff like something dead; their fox eyes were a little too sharp. Royals tend to have that effect on people, each clank of a heel like it was stomping on your neck. An acknowledgement stopped by them, but not much else - all you needed from a queen and nothing more. The two concepts left with her and after them came chatter and tension rolling it's shoulders.

Calendula took another swig of wine tasting like dawn and honey. For a moment, there was nothing.

Then, there was something.

Emptiness. No voices, no thoughts, no air. And then -

a scream.

Calendula felt it before they saw it, the crashing of air against air, voice against words; fear against confusion.

The fae are never afraid.

(Were they more honest, they might admit to the darkest knowledge, the most primal monster lurking in all fae's hearts - the knowledge that they aren't supposed to be afraid of anything but themselves.)

(Emphasis on supposed to.)

Next they feel sharp elbows making holes in their ribs, a thousand bodies rushing like a nest of hornets escaping fire; they turned by their sides, Calendula a rock breaching the surface of a river. They hand clung at the wedding dress white of the table, fighting for balance - ice from the sweet wine turned their veins just as cold, mind reeling a thousand noises. An army, they thought at first, beating the gates - but that could not be, for they would not run. No, the queen would have not let them. Aisling tore from their arm in all the panic that errupted, a thousand fae fleeing like a thousand birds into the air; and with silken dresses and starched white suits parting to reveal a body lying as if in sleep.

Calendula recognised the face a second too late. A second too fast their stomach dropped.

A face twisted with age, ashen and empty. A face that not only a few heartbeats before was young like theirs.

Their hands scrambled for purchase, their head not being able to form even a terrified scream; they have never been afraid, no, and they did not know what to do but to stare at those eyes dull with death. Theirs is a kind that is not supposed to die - theirs is not supposed to age. A tremor, like the rumbling deep under the earth, took over their arms and their head was light. The queen's voice was distant in their ears, as if she spoke from the depth of a great lake, only enough to recognise it as a voice and nothing more. They knew they had to get outside - but their body would not obey it's master, no. They have heard that some fae get turned to stone for their crimes, they stand as statues - perhaps they have met the same fate and have yet to see it.

Call it bravery, or call it madness of a being scared - but Calendula forced their limbs to move, grabbed on to the wrist of a person watching the body, as motionless as her on the floor. Calendula is not kind.

But they are just enough not to leave somebody to fend for themselves.

''We have to go.'' Is all they whispered to the unfamiliar back before they dragged them along, fighting for flight.

It seemed like eternity before the fresh air hit their face outside, smelling damply of earth and rain; it was like cold spring water to their head, their body finally giving out near the beginning of a garden, the only place that was not swarmed with ball-goers. Darkness enveloped the spaces in-between, some blessed silence - their breath came out shaky as they rested a hand on the worn skin of a birch tree. They could not think, not yet - they dared not form ideas, thoughts about what had happened in there. That would lead to panic, šanic leads to - their hand still digging crescents into the wrist of a person they did not know. They snapped it back without an apology.

''Excuse me, this is -''

And when they looked up to see who it was, their face blanked.

Eyes like burning jewels. Cheeks like a blooming apple tree. Metaphors only, one that could not describe the features that gazed back at them; some things you just could not describe, not with the limiting excess of words. No, instead of words popping up in their head they saw - burning cities. Clash of swords. Women and men bleeding out on the thirsty ground. A beauty that is worth lives. Their hand faltered as if to search for a sword, too -

and perhaps, if they were not their father's child, they might have done it. But Calendula could never love anybody more than they love themselves, and so their hand grasped a giant leaf instead.

The impact of smacking it on the person's face let out a resounding slap!

A pale hand held the green leaf up as if it offended them, mind working - they had heard of a person in the court, so beautiful it could cause a war. But they are Calendula, and so they forgot it to stare at themselves instead. But that must be them; and with them come swarms. ''Hold it so people won't see.'' They commanded, black swan's eyes narrowing. As if called a fae they recognised stared at the person, face flushed. Calendula glared back. ''Oh, do please quit.'' The fae hesitated, lingered - but Calendula would not give, and so they left with disappointed shoulders. Only then did they loosen their hold on the leaf, eyes casted to the ground. Their dress was ruined, the spider's silk tearing at the seams; mod has started to blacken their shoes.

''You're... what is your name?''

Interactions: miyabi

 

[.V1LLAINISM._]

.DRAKON.

THE SNAKE PRINCE.
​

erzulie

Fear. Its claws dug into his skin, tearing. Fear. Its fangs sank into his neck, feeding. And all that crossed his mind was,
Fear.
Fear.
Fear.
For what is man’s greatest enemy, if not the terrors that walk the night?

Drakon was one of the lucky ones, he’d presumed. The ones that had managed to rid of both the environment and the expectation. A jewel glimmering in a pile of cow manure, one could call it. But his doubts were plenty and his morale was faltering. He looked back- and back again. The fall of an empire, right in front of their very eyes. And there they were, fleeing in self-interest. A part of him felt ashamed of himself, and the tiny, minute but incessant voice made him feel all but more abashed.
For it would not stop repeating the most unforgivable thing.

‘At least it wasn’t yours. ‘

His family, his kingdom. They were all safe. The relief that washed over him greatly opposed the fear, battling its warrior right at the center of his chest. They shared a tight-lipped waltz. He needed to breathe.

‘… Or were they?’

His gait relaxed as they approached the garden, a light jog a ways away from the castle. Quarantined from the nightmare itself. For now, anyways. Across their journey, he couldn’t help but notice the natural beauty, it felt almost like… home (he hesitates to say). It was funny really, how he went from encountering pure terror to feeling a little less of a pariah in a matter of minutes. Even the entrance was like the one at the forefront of the caverns, only with less ferocity, little jagged indignation. He panted, coming to a rest.

“Th…Thank you.”

Glancing at the woman before him, Drakon was unsure if there was really a need to maintain formalities At the moment- they’d almost died for Pete’s sake! Did any of that even matter anymore? Did it? He nodded to her shaky gratitude, voicing a hoarse “…’welcome” before tiredly seating himself on the earthy floors. He stretched his legs, wincing at the strain and the consequent aftermath of his fall. His hip still hurt like hell. His leg? Practically ablaze. His skin a mural of cuts and bruises and his hair… Well, he didn’t even want to think about it now. He could only imagine how hideous he looked while perched in the company of the fairer sex.

“I do hope that you haven’t hurt yourself too bad. Ball gowns are excellent for softening falls but I can’t say that same for your clothing…”

There was something so touching about the way she said it, that despite having quite literally saved each other’s lives, it somehow meant more. So someone did care. A small smile crept up his chin.

“Ah,” he dismissed “It’s nothing worth mourning over princess.” He winked.
The two fell into a comfortable silence once more, stunned, processing. A part of him wondered what was going on behind those big doe eyes of hers, so much that he hadn’t even realized he was staring until- until he heard the sniffles. One and then another. He froze.
Now, Drakon had the stomach to endure a lot of things. He could handle an animal attack, he could handle living with snakes, he could even handle a castle caving in on itself! But he could not, for the life of him, handle emotion. For it was something unimportant where he came from, where instinct and survival bore the brunt of focus. It was rare that he even got the chance to confide, and that too, was all because of a snake. Nagira., who had since unironically been deemed an expert on human affairs (and more importantly, courting) ever since he’d caught wind of this expedition. Drakon wracked his brain for a solution, trying his best to remember her words correctly. The prince sat awkwardly, very non prince -like with his hands draped along his sides, supporting his weight and his legs splayed lazily. Aha! He was to.. kiss her? No no, that didn’t sound right… Was it soothe? It had to be soothe.

The man shot the princess a sympathetic look, he could only imagine what it felt like, to watch your home crumble, to be torn away from your family. He wouldn’t even wish that upon his worst enemy.
“I.. I’m not quite certain what occurred in there..” he gestured to the distant estate “But I hope- no I think that it’ll all be… alright?”
He didn’t even mean for it to sound like an inquiry but in all honesty, it very much truly was.
Hey, at least he was trying
​

​

​

​

 

[blue-jay]

EUDORA, THE HUMAN ENGAGED

Eudora turned her head cautiously towards the man as he was speaking. Something about the glint in his eye made her wary. When he pointed out her curtsy, she briefly wondered if he did it to highlight how poorly executed it was. Her worrying was interrupted: a loud rumble sounded above Eudora, and she heard the horrible cracking sound of pillars beginning to lose their stability.

"If I were you, I'd be more concerned about death by falling debris than by unpleasant screeching." Eudora was displeased by this statement, as it added to the impression that this man saw things that she didn’t and didn’t see things that she did. It worsened her nerves and made the crumbling of the room around her burn brighter and louder in her head. In response to the man’s words, she blurted out absent-mindedly, “It is all the same thing.” However, her voice was too low for her to be certain if either the man or the Princess had heard her, and she wasn’t sure if they would even understand what she meant: the way that sounds could be soft or hard and could crush people with as much force as stone.

Then the man said “There will be war if I am to die here” and the words settled in Eudora’s mind like a thick fog that she was only pulled out of by the feeling of a hand closing around her wrist and whisking her across the ballroom. As she followed the force of the hand, she looked up and saw a small piece of debris fall from the ceiling. It struck one of the ball attendees, who had been trapped on the wrong side of a fallen pillar, on the side of her head. The woman stumbled, dark red liquid oozing from the point of impact, and fell unconscious, and Eudora watched, mouth agape, as all the other ball-attendees passed the limp woman and sought out their own safety, some even stepping on her in their panic.

Before Eudora had time to process what she had seen, she was pulled behind a curtain and began following the Princess through a dark hall, struggling to keep balance as her heels clacked against the shaking stone floor. Her internal world--her quiet, distant lighthouse: the peace she had built in her desolation--seemed to shake and fall apart with the castle.

Eudora had read about catastrophes like this in romances and epics, but nothing could have prepared her for the terror of experiencing it.

When they were outside and on stable ground, Eudora realized she had been struggling to breathe. She fell to her knees and began gasping and coughing, fighting to regain her breath. She also realized that she had cried at some point during their escape; there were fresh tear streams on her deep brown cheeks. After moments of struggling, Eudora was able to steady her breathing at last.

She looked up at the castle. It was crumbling in on itself. Eudora imagined all the people still inside. All the people who couldn’t escape. The fainted woman who everyone had ignored. She imagined the ceiling raining down on them, crushing them like beetles. She thought back to when Tristan told her that most insects live so briefly and that a million of them die every night. She had cried for hours. She now thought out loud, “Will anyone wage a war for them?” Was she talking about the people in the castle? All those insects? Both?

At the Princess’s words, Eudora quickly wiped away the tear stains and stood up. She met the Princess’s eyes with her own, puffy from crying that she didn’t remember doing, and gave her a nod. If Eudora felt any solace, it was from the fact that they were outdoors and heading to a settlement, presumably a place much like where Eudora grew up. Perhaps this settlement would have a quiet shed for her to lock herself away in until she felt better--until the quaking in her head came to an end.

Eudora looked from the Princess to the man and said simply, “Eudora.” She threw one last backwards glance at the castle and, in the shadow of its grand collapse, felt infinitesimal, like an insect. She felt that the two with her were infinitesimal as well. She then followed the Princess in taking a step away from the castle.

She thought about how brutal and absurd the world could be, about three ladybugs fleeing from a tree that had been felled. Who was holding the axe?

ravensunset hery

 

[Wandering Owl]

AISLING, THE REVELER

Aisling felt themselves relax when the queen left their little dialogue, though their eyes stayed on her until she was swallowed up by the crowd. As they shared a glance with Calendula, the rhythm of the ball flooded back up around them, and they let that sharp vignette-focus begin to blur, surveying the room with languorous indifference. Another fae stammering under the force of the queen’s gaze. A small crowd gathering around some unseen idol. A servant docile and impassive to an undertoned reprimand.

The respite lasted only a moment.

Aisling is quick, but even they didn’t register the wave of shock that shot through the room until they were already in its midst, the noise and chatter of the party fleeing in an instant like a rabbit into the undergrowth. They leant forward, glimpsing a flash of silver-gray hair and a face wizened beyond recognition. And then a scream pierced the still air and seemed to set free at once all the fae frozen under the spell of fear.

The wave crashes into them, uncaring. Calendula, taller, strong as a swan, manages to hold their place, but Aisling is small and slight, suddenly aware of their vulnerability to pointed shoulders and trampling feet and bodies that care for nothing but relentless forward movement; and they are borne away, torn away from their companion’s arm like a loose thread caught on a thorn. Most of the crowd are pushing towards the exits, a few jostling to the front to see the body for themselves, but Aisling has not had time to make up their mind, to really consider the situation at all before being overwhelmed, and so they simply endeavored to survive, to move with the flow of the people all around until the danger of being crushed underfoot feels slightly less present. They find what they’re seeking eventually, not an escape but a respite, a corner of the room where people seem to flow around them, rather than through them. As the initial rush begins to die down, they can get a better picture of the scene everyone is reacting to. Finally able to let out their breath and view the situation with a mind that thinks in words, not impulses.

There had been nothing like this in the court, not for a long, long time.

There was no knowing what could happen next.

The thought caught in their throat, stuck at the crossroads between fear and exhilaration. Aisling was fragile, and infinitely aware of it. They knew that the fae do not age, do not fall ill by any mundane means. But they had long resented those who carried themselves as if they were untouchable, an odd cocktail of disdain for such naivety, and old yearning turned sour. So a furtive little thrill sparked through them as they watched the confusion and panic of those around them, a voice that wanted to cry out with child-like elation Look! Look at how my world has always been! Feel scared for once in your glass-preserved lives!

The queen was gone by the time they were able to see through the remaining crowd. Not much she was able to do now, they supposed, and it would hardly help her image to linger around a scene she couldn't help. They contemplated, briefly, going to see the body more closely, but it was already being fussed over by apprehensive servants, and they doubted there was much to see that hadn’t already been relayed in snatches of hurried conversation from the passing crowds. So they pushed out, into the dark, silent web of hallways that stretched beyond any guest’s reach. They knew their path here, more than they ever had done in the ballroom, and they were recognised even as their gaze was avoided by those they passed. They made their way towards the queen’s chambers. Even if she wasn’t there, someone nearby might know where she had gone. Before they even reached the doorway, they caught sight of a familiar dark figure, instantly distinctive even with her back to them, making her way down the corridor.

Aisling quickened their pace, half-running to draw level with her, and gave a quick, cordial nod. “My queen.” The greeting was pared down to its simplest form, any pleasantries falling by the wayside in favor of more important subjects.

“A fine display tonight. The balls were growing so repetitive, I must admit. But that one will not be forgotten easily. I must congratulate you.” Jokes, quick and light as breathing, because what else could they do? Fumbling around the matter, or stating the obvious, or asking questions she could not know the answer to - it would all just serve to make them feel more helpless. Better to make-believe this was some clever joke known only to the two of them, even if it was just for a few seconds. “I hear you’ve had the body taken to the dungeons. Making sure it can’t escape and cause more trouble, are you? Is that where we are headed now? For an interrogation?” That one was a genuine question, though they couldn’t help turning it back to humor at the last second. Her steps certainly seemed to be heading that way.

They would follow her, regardless.

 

[xayah.]

THE FAE COURT.
Scream.

More and more.

What started as one piercing shrill grew into a symphony of hundreds, audible from not only the ballroom but all throughout the castle. Not all were the sound of death pouncing on its unwilling and unsuspecting victims like a beast who's tasted blood for the first time in a long, long time. Those had a certain dynamic to them, always starting at a belt and then fading to nothing after a mere second or so. Fleeting, one might call them, much like the existences of their now deceased owners that spanned throughout the castle. Any fae might've considered this word and any similar descriptions a personal affront to their almost immortal lifespans.

It is good then that those who did are no longer alive to think so.

Even a mere servant girl running as fast as her small legs can carry her would've been offended had her mind not been focused on another task entirely. Specifically assigned to her by the Queen herself, this rare opportunity was a great honor, and she was determined to accomplish it. All this effort just to send a letter to a man who was busy with the human court's own problems. Not that the letter nor any other communications will ever be sent, mind you. Something always fails in the process, and before anyone involved can comprehend why, the servant girl and all other messengers fall just like those in the ballroom below them.

The rest of the noise in the room was a mix of two types—a harmony between those equal in volume and amount: the lucky, or unlucky enough depending on your view of mercy, to at least live despite their rotten and wrinkled appearances and the permanently scarred yet unaffected by the sight. And you? That is of no matter for no fae would escape this debacle unscathed.

No fae.

Across the room, right at the origin, two humans stand. Is it not ironic that the weakest of the attendees stand the tallest? Nay, is it not suspicious? Of all the creatures, those actually affected by age are, for once, those frozen in time. Apparently, you are not the only one to notice. A young attendee, fae in nature but undiscernable as to which gender from the distance they stand at, shouts in a tone reserved only for matters in which a fae is prepared to die to prove. How appropriate for such a situation.

"The humans are to blame! They've been planning this all along," the voice has reached a deafening screech like the climax of an awe-striking orchestral piece that is high enough to reach your ears despite the booming background instrumentals. And it did not reach only your ears. The rest of the attendees still, if only for a second but that is all the fae needs to finish what almost everyone is thinking at this point.

"It's turning us into humans. And those monsters are the cause of it!"

A foolish notion. Humans are not capable of such complex magic, but don't you feel a certain thought intruding in the back of your mind? What if? You certainly won't get any answers to this dilemma if you remain here at court. Your only option seems to be bringing them to their human lords for questioning for the crowd here seems to be closing in on them, and their intentions are murderous.
miyabi GracingGravity Wandering Owl mother of sorrows ThatSassyWeirdo Pepsionne

 

[ravensunset]

THE HUMAN COURT.

erzulie .V1LLAINISM._

There is a safe space, inside the grounds of the castle. A beautiful space. The woods, we all know, are full of danger, but in a ring around the castle, they have been gently tamed, and in the confines of the castle bounds, the garden flourishes. A quiet waterfall trickles into a pond, and the grass grows smoothly around the two humans sitting there.

Back in the castle, crushed bodies bloody the floors.

Safety. This place once deserved it, in its still beauty. And yet something was changed, inside the castle. The trust broken. This is not a safe place, not a place that deserves to keep living. Peace is not so easy. The grass under the two humans starts to dry, turning brown, then black.

A snake peeks up from under a rock, and turns and disappears away into the ground. The waterfall shimmers, and when a drop hits your skin, it burns. The trees that once formed an entrance thicken. You feel it closing in, as though saying you cannot stay if you wish to leave alive and well.

Oh, young princess. Your mother’s still in that castle, isn’t she? Can you feel her absence from you? Shouldn’t you be doing something to help?

​

The grass around the castle starts to wither and die. The towers shake and crumble, collapsing with deafening crashes. All but one, in the center of the castle, it alone remains untouched. Death hangs in the air.

 

[hery]

MOOD: girlbossing

OUTFIT: imagine something fancy

LOCATION: outside the castle

basics

MENTIONS:
Violetta, Leilia, Eudora

INT:
ravensunset
blue-jay

tags

TL;DR no

tl;dr

Dario
~
The Ambassador

The trio had narrowly dodged a slew of crumbling castle remains and yet the more frazzled of the two humans beside Dario had the gall to not bother gathering her bearings. Beyond that, he was a touch offended to witness the princess dragging the helpless girl and only the helpless girl. Logically, the raven-haired fae was fully aware that he could handle an escape on his own and would likely have slapped her hand away if she tried to take his. Still, he should have been more of a priority than he appeared to be... The audacity.

Such is the way of humans, he supposed. Hellbent on self-preservation, to a fault. At least more fae were capable of avoiding harm without making such a spectacle of it.

Dario followed closely behind the women at a hurried, stumbling pace, his steps heavy and firm. Despite the noise, he could faintly trace the muffled echo of his shoes on the shiny, sleek floor. His eyes fell upon an unfortunate ballgoer’s crushing demise, and he immediately looked back toward Violetta and the girl being dragged along with her. One seemed a bit too focused on escape to see what the two behind had seen. The mystery woman, to Dario’s surprise, elicited a much less pronounced reaction than he had come to expect, though neither were given much time to emote before being whooshed away behind a curtain.

The velvet fabric of the curtain whipped at Dario's face, which scrunched in on itself like a wrinkled washcloth. He let out a dismayed grunt. The cries of the ball guests faded in the distance, offering the fae a morbidly calm respite.

Turn after turn, Dario found himself knocked side to side, slamming against the wall with pained wheezes. A cold needle of fear pierced his heart once more, and as much as he resisted it, his complexion had become light as a ghost.

Could I die here…?

No. Not in this crumbling vestige of a tomb. Not yet. This damned castle would soon be no more and for the first time since the chandelier’s descent, Dario began to question what this meant for the world at large. What of the king and queen? And the library… that gigantic, one-of-a-kind library! Not even Dario’s shaken dignity was safe.

Light filtered faintly out of the hall’s end, warmly beckoning the three to sweet, silent safety. The staggered fae squinted, pushing through the door with a heaving gasp. His feet remained rooted into the ground and his arms were outstretched, a newfound instinct brought about by their narrow escape.

For once, Dario shared the shock of the two women, panting and heaving with his back to the wall. While the other two faltered in a conflicted whirlwind of emotions regarding the state of the castle, the adrenalized ambassador dusted himself off. The easiest thing to do in this scenario was to feign slight annoyance rather than collapse onto the ground in a hysterical heap.

The weeping, princess-like character let out an overwrought cry, pouring out an empathy Dario simply could not comfort, let alone mimic. “Will anyone wage a war…” he murmured in repetition, rolling his tongue in his cheek. What did she mean? Emerald eyes briefly met the puffy, distraught eyes of the woman, and he creased his lips. He had nothing to say to her.

The remains of their disjointed conversation moved to whatever was supposed to come next, a thought Dario could not hope to comprehend. He gave a halfhearted shrug, unable to keep his eyes from drifting to the woods enveloping the castle. It was perhaps the most familiar part of the bookish ambassador’s stay with the humans.

Outside the walls… Dario’s mind traveled to home, and to the thousand-page letter he had to write to his queen at once. As pleased as they should have been to witness this catastrophe befall the humans, it was an undeniable omen of something dreadful to come.

He couldn’t stay here.

“I need a line of contact with the queen,” he stated simply, his harsh words bordering on an order to the princess, “My queen.” There was so much to report on this incident that Dario couldn’t begin to decipher what was important and what was a symptom of the shameful stupor he had fallen into.

“Eudora,” was all the other woman managed to force out, leaving Dario to quirk a brow with misplaced frustration. Whatever patience he had was gone with the castle ruins.

“What? Is that your name?” he snapped with crossed arms, “My name is Dario. I would say it’s a pleasure, but the circumstances dictate otherwise.” He flashed a false smile, then dropped it. Needless to say, this was not what the fae signed up for. When he first arrived at this palace, he had assumed it would be a simple game of information gathering, treachery only loosely, but always on the table.

This was far above his pay grade.

“The escape route was much appreciated, Violetta,” Dario said in a dull, hollow manner, “Goodbye, now. More obliging humans await.” With that, he turned on his heel and started toward the wooded path, abandoning any and all former ties to the mission that nearly cost him his life. Two clueless humans and the mass of missing bodies had long shed their use, most of which presented little of it even before the castle’s collapse.

His footsteps crunched in the forest's undergrowth, stepping into the shadows of the trees looming above. The only thing on Dario's mind now was the faint hope that he was traveling in the right direction.

code by valen t.

 

[erzulie]

scroll

Half-Fae

Dianthe.

mood

determind.

outfit

「1」

location

castle front.

interactions

mysterious prince , violetta , dario, eudora

tags

.V1LLAINISM._ ravensunset , hery , blue-jay

Dianthe knew that his intentions were to console her, knew that he sought to quell the tears that formed hot paths upon the apples of her cheeks. And while his efforts were appreciated, they did nothing to lessen the dread that she felt in the pit of her stomach. The man before her sounded as unsure as she felt. At least she wasn’t alone in that regard. “Your kind words are appreciated…but even I know that the future is most uncertain now. I fear that things may never be the same again.” She spoke solemnly, her tears beginning to dry now. The delicate creature slowly melted away to reveal the true princess beneath. She felt a little foolish now.

There was no time to dwell on it. Again Pocket began to bark. Dianthe was almost too afraid to drop the stranger’s gaze, too afraid to see what was causing her beloved companion to bark in such a way. But then she remembered herself, fear was something that she would not let control her. Dianthe held his gaze for a moment longer, and then she looked. Oh, how she wished his hadn’t.

Around her, Eden began to wither and decay. Her little slice of Heaven began to fall before her eyes and her heart dropped with it. It was as if life was being sucked right out of it. Would they suffer the same fate? She found that she had no intentions of finding out. Within her, determination welled up and threatened to overflow. She would not stand idle again. Dianthe would not allow herself to need saving as she did before.

“We need to leave immediately.” Were the words that come from her mouth, her tone serious. She was no damsel in distress. Her mind was sharp and her body strong, muscles built from years of climbing and running and exploring. Dianthe helped her stranger to his feet and they were off again.

He was taller than her and heavier but she would be damned if she let it stop her. Her nightmare had returned to the forefront of her mind as they raced through the woods. This time, she would not look back. The decay could be following but she would not look back to see.

Soon the trio burst through the trees, coming from the side of the forest. Up ahead she could see a group of people and she made her way over with her two companions. Dianthe clenched her jaw, as she bore the weight of the stranger but made no complaint.

“…Where’s mother?” Were the first words to escape her.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ravensunset]

THE PRINCESS.

Outside of the castle, the rush that had spread through Violetta’s entire body as she’d ran, the beating of her heart quickened by the falling stone seemed to fade away, leaving her. Whatever force, temporary strength, that had allowed them to escape was gone. She exhaled, suddenly fully aware of the weight of her dress as her feet found themselves on solid ground.

They were okay. She was okay. Was the grass getting darker? How many others survived? The woman beside her, who seemed just as shaken, asked a question.

“There will be no war,” Violetta’s tone was sharp as she turned to Eudora. She realized only as the words were out that the question hadn’t been a threat, or even a concern, “This was, a terrible tragedy but we’ll get help, we’ll make amends,”

Her thoughts, perhaps thankfully, were redirected to Dario’s request. He wanted to report to his court, of course he did, and Violetta could hardly imagine the mess they’d all be in once that was accomplished. But even if she’d wanted to, she had no way of granting his request. She didn’t even know how the fae communicated normally, much less now.

Dario too seemed shaken. So they were alive, these fae, capable of fear. Violetta didn’t feel anything, not a muscle in her body knowing what to do, not as she looked at the ruins, but if she could, beyond her own fear and worry, she might have felt satisfaction at that realization. They were not undefeatable.

Before she could say much, process much, the fae gave a goodbye and turned away. She didn’t have the time, or perhaps the willpower, to reach out and stop him. Instead, she looked at Eudora, who’d by then given out her name.

“We got him out safely. It’s not on us if he wants to go get himself lost or killed, we did what we could.” Eudora didn’t need the justification, and yet, Violetta needed to give it. Needed to have a story early. She needed…

“Where’s mother?”

Dianthe exited from the trees, her and someone Violetta had yet to meet. A guest from the ball. Someone else safe.

”Oh thank heavens, so you’re alive,” For the second time in what felt like just an instant, a relieved breath left her, “Where’s m- Where’s your dress? What were you doing? We need… We need to get help.” Violetta looked between the three remaining in front of her and gave a small nod before starting down the path in front of her.



tags: hery blue-jay .V1LLAINISM._ erzulie

 

[Pepsionne]

mood :

confused, panicked

location :

Fae Court

outfit :

mentions :

GracingGravity

interactions :

ThatSassyWeirdo

the human servant

;; Silas

The presence of the Queen was not something Silas was unfamiliar with. She had an aura to her, an overwhelming presence that stiffened his muscles. Her hatred of humans was a fact the head servants drilled into him early. He was never to get close or serve her directly, a rule he happily obliged by. He was no stranger to the way fae shriveled in her presence. The cruelty she was capable of preceded her. To feel her by his side, whispering curt instructions into his ear, was not an experience Silas had prepared himself for. His throat felt constricted, his body unwilling to even breathe in the same space as her. All he could do was offer a silent bow, his body statuesque as he waited for her to walk away. Disgust and anger radiated off of her body, shoving itself down his throat with a suffocating reality.

When she finally walked away, Silas let out a gasping breath, his eyes still pointed down at the floor where the dead fae lay. He glanced to the side, prompted by the sound of a curious voice addressing him. Silas stared at the woman who had taken the Queen’s place beside him. She looked directly at him, something the other fae he served never bothered with. He blinked once, his expression blank. He stared at her like that for several seconds before it occurred to him that he was to offer a response back.

“No--no please that won’t be necessary,” Silas said, his voice unsure. Who was this person? He opened his mouth once more to ask her to please exit the room for her own safety, but a blood curdling scream fractured the momentary calm that the room had fallen into. Silas dragged his eyes upward, away from the safety they found on the ground, only to take in a sight that made his skin prick in horror.

Fae began dropping all around them, the passage of age ripping through them in frightening speed. The chaos once more engulfed them, fae skittering around frantically to avoid suffering the same fate as the fallen guests that began to stack upon the floor in numbers.

Silas was unable to move, unable to think. What could even be done in a situation like this? His eyes merely followed the cycle of the fae’s life unraveling before him. No longer infinite, they fell like rotting fruit from a tree, the dull thumps of their bodies hitting the floor turning into a rhythmic beat. It was at this point that a shrill cry erupted from within the crowd.

“The humans are to blame! They've been planning this all along,” A fae had screeched. Attention was now drawn to the center of the room, where Silas still stood next to the covered form of the first to fall. Silas blinked. No--no he had nothing to do with this. Why would he have anything to do with this? Panic bubbled in his chest slowly, like simmering water just beginning to bead under the surface. As more and more fae turned towards the center of the room, the hatred gleaming in their eyes pointed at Silas, the panic in his chest found more purchase to dig its claws into. Silas' breathing began to tighten and increase in pace with every new finger of blame pointed his way.

"It's the Humans fault! They brought this curse upon us!"

Silas' head felt dizzy. Words from his father echoed in his brain, the sleepless nights cast out into the cold, the evenings spent nauseatingly hungry while he watched his family feast from a distance. Memories of his father’s hatred stormed Silas' senses, mixing with the growing hate of the fae around him. Shaking fingers pulled desperately at the intricately woven tie around his neck, hoping for some type of release from the choking air of the ballroom. The newly freed fabric hung loosely around his neck, the surface wrinkled.

Each new fae that suffered the fate of time mounted more pressure in the ballroom. The adrenaline and fear that ricocheted freely before now centered itself in the center of the room, weighing down on Silas’ shoulders. Fae began to crowd in around them now. Their eyes were full of equal parts anger and fear, the two swirling around in a constant battle for dominance. Silas slowly sank to his knees. The strength had been zapped from him, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind. He tried to grasp for something to ease the overwhelming panic he felt within him. He had never felt anything like it before.

Silas remained silent as the accusations continued to fly. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but they did not fall--could not fall. He couldn't even remember the last time he allowed himself to cry. Maybe he had forgotten how.

His father had been right. Silas must have been cursed, bringing death in his wake. Was that the price for the life he had been given? Generating the suffering of others solely so he could bear the blame for it?

He felt small as he sat there, the voices of the ballroom blurring out into a dull roar in his mind. He was suddenly a child again, the emotions that he had effectively shut off from feeling at all now all that thrummed through him.

Silas merely sat defenseless as the crowd began to gather closer, like a noose slowly tightening around his neck. If he caused this death, if he really was a cursed child, he deserved their wrath. Deserved their punishment. His eyes cemented themselves on the floor in front of him, unable to face the fate that was in store for him.

coded by reveriee.

 

[ThatSassyWeirdo]

Lorelei

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  Watching the dancers in the ballroom
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
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Lorelei watched the human beside her, as he let out that gasping breath as the queen left, curious as to why that happened. Was it fear of the Fae queen? So many people had radiated fear when she’d appeared. Was that how that woman liked to rule? Lorelei couldn’t blame her as her own mother liked to rule in fear, but she did question if there was another way to rule. Must one have their subjects fear them? What a lonely existence that would always prove to be. No, Lorelei decided she didn’t want to be feared by everyone. She would find another way to rule, if she were to ever rule.

The human seemed to stare at her for quite some time and Lorelei stared right back, not hatred or disgusted there, only curiosity. Then disappointment as he refused her offer of help. Why would he refuse her offer? She didn’t have much time to ponder the question as more screams erupted. She finally glanced around the room, watching as more and more Fae began to drop. A small droplet of fear gripped at her as she wondered if she’d be next. Perhaps it was wise to leave this place, just to be safe. She couldn’t perish before she completed her mission, but then words hit her ears. Accusatory words directed at the human beside her, at all humans still in the room even. Lorelei had been beside this person for a while now and he hadn’t done anything to make others suffer this fate, why were they blaming him?

Her eyes looked over every person looking their way, over every Fae that grew old and fell with a thump. She then heard a very soft thump beside her as her head whipped back to the human, fear filling her as she didn’t want to see him now shriveled and dead next to her. Instead she was met with the sight of a distraught form. His emotions, his despair and fear radiated off of him and it choked Lorelei a bit. No one deserved to feel this way and her heart broke for him. Then anger filled her, not at him, but at the people making him feel this way. Her eyes whipped back to those advancing on them.

”The next person to take a step near us or attempts to harm this man will not have to wait for this curse of aging to kill them.”

She said loudly enough for them all to hear, unknowingly throwing her compelling magic into the words ever so slightly.

”Because I will rip your throats out myself.”

It wasn’t a threat, but a promise to any of those that dared try her. She then turned back to Silas and dropped down in front of him, taking hold of one of his hands.

”Hey, look at me. You’re okay.”

She began, a calming gentleness to her voice as she used her other hand to gently touch his face and lift his chin to look at her.

”I’ve got you, okay? No one is going to harm you. I’ll protect you, but you have to come with me. We need to leave here, alright?”

She wasn’t even sure if her words were registering with him, but she had to try. If she left him behind she surely would be signing his death warrant. So she took the hand she held and moved it and his arm over her shoulder. She then wrapped her other arm around his waist as she did her best to help him stand up. She then did something that others may have found strange, she began softly singing. She was trying desperately to calm Silas as she led him out of the ballroom and to safety.

round and round

erutan

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[GracingGravity]

Enraged
Fae Court
❛ ThatSassyWeirdo Pepsionne
miyabi Wandering Owl ❜

✦ Leilia ✦​

Leilia merely nodded in response to Aisling’s sudden presence, yet she felt relief wash through her, grateful that nothing had happened to them. However, just as the queen opened her mouth to ask Aisling if she knew anything about what had just happened the fox spoke first. She pressed her lips into a fine line, disappointment flashing in her eyes. She had been a fool to hope Aisling would know any more of this insanity than she.

Yet she couldn’t help but hope because she truly had no idea what had happened just moments ago. Fae don’t age, Fae don’t wither and die, and yet those exact impossibilities had happened on this very night.

The queen didn’t respond to Aisling’s attempt at a joke, she simply wasn’t in the mood to fabricate words to put them at ease. So Leilia continued to walk through the corridors, deep in thought as she worked through her memories and knowledge. She barely heard Aisling’s next words, too distracted by her swimming thoughts to grasp the humor in their voice.

“Yes, my little vixen, we-” her half-hearted response was cut off by blood curdling screams, causing her mouth to snap shut and her pace to quicken. She was no longer heading in the direction of the dungeons, no, she had changed course to follow the sound of her subjects' screams. Despite her heart pounding against her chest mercilessly the queen kept her face neutral, an almost bored look in her eyes as she passed by some servants.

Even if she felt terror clawing it’s way through her being she would not show weakness, could not. Her momentary lapse in the ballroom earlier would not go unnoticed and she needed to put forth a strong front to dispel any growing rumors. Yet as she neared the ballroom once again her hands grew clammy, what would she find?

Leilia forced her mind to still, and her hands to remain steady as she finally entered the ballroom once again, not checking to see if Aisling was still with her. She noticed two things: one more fae had dropped dead, and two that the human servant was with that siren, in the middle of the carnage. Rage shot through her like rushing water, the urge to simply remove both their heads from their bodies nearly overcame her.

Yet she stilled herself, taking a moment to graze her eyes over the entire scene and to take in how terrified that human was. She could feel his fear from where she stood, still covered by the shadow of an archway.

Leilia knew he was not responsible for this, despite her hatred for humans, the few that lived in this castle to serve her just simply weren’t capable of this much carnage. The queen knew this and yet the rage in her heart would not calm, rage at seeing her people dead around her, rage at not knowing what to do, and most of all rage as she heard the siren speak. With a flick of her wrist the doors to the exit slammed shut right in the red head’s face, and with that Leilia stepped out from the shadows, a terrifyingly cruel smile snaking its way across her lips.

“You’ll rip my throat out huh? Is that any way to speak to The Queen of a land that you are merely a guest in?” her words held a point to them, sharper than daggers and yet her tone remained deadly calm as she walked further into the room. Leilia clicked her tongue as if scolding a troublesome child.

“Such bad manners, I’ve half a mind to throw you back out to sea like the smelly fish you are, let your mother deal with how to punish you for such awful decorum.” the queen sighed, as if distraught from how rude her guest was being, yet it was obvious she was merely taunting the siren. “Though perhaps I will simply just rip out your vocal chords instead. Hm, so many options. I’ll have to think about it, for now though…” the gestured to whatever fae servants she had left, a lazy movement as if she were simply bored of this situation. “Cease them, and that one as well.” she said finally, also pointing toward the beautiful human she had seen earlier.

“You seem to have acquired something that does not belong to you, be smart and let go so I don’t have to add removing your fingers to my list of your punishments.” the queen added, already beginning to walk away. “Bring them to the dungeons, I want all of them interrogated. But wait until I get there.” Leilia called out over her shoulder, as she continued to walk back through the arch from which she had entered.

She was certain her human servant hadn't done this, but her court was angry and would never let that human out of here alive. So the safest place for him right now would be the dungeons how ever counterintuitive that may sound. She hated the idea of having to protect such a lowly creature, but she wouldn't simply abandon one of her servants, even a human one.

The other two she wasn't certain about, the siren was awfully suspicious considering she had threatened her court and almost kidnapped one of her subjects, and Leilia knew even less about the mysterious beautiful human.

This matter was getting more complicated by the second, like a threads tangling together in one giant knot of disaster.

 

[mother of sorrows]

-- 𝐃𝐄𝐈𝐃𝐑𝐀, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍.​

The earth, sodden and dark like a tomb, slipped beneath her feet. Familiar faces turning around her, all burning pale with fear - screams sending birds flying, confusion spreading like fire through a dry field in the height of summer. Red, red, a terrible red slicked the river banks, taking with it every branch and every flower until it died in it's depths. She could hear ducks screaming somewhere along, river birds scrambling for the sky. Their bellies were black with it. Her feet felt like the deeply growing roots of the trees around her, stuck in the black earth; they wouldn't move, wouldn't even quake with cold panic that soaked through every nerve.

The skies bloated, turned. And then started to cry.

A drop, just on her cheek. Almost instinctively her cold hand reacted to wipe it away - her fingers came away red. Deidra thought she was going to be sick.

And one they started to cry they wouldn't stop. Rain, red rain, fell on this pitiful little village and splattered across the humble roofs and mud-caked walls. Screams of animals and people, all in a frenzy with fear in the face of seeing something so unnatural, an omen so black it would make the bravest man short of breath. Drip, drip, drip the bloody rain fell, in each drop a mocking laughter - 'be afraid, run, run, hide in your houses and pray.' The skies sickened with darkness, suddenly so black that no human could see beyond the safety of their own hands. As if day itself parted to let in the night, some version of it that has grown rotten and bloated with festering.

The stench. The stench.

Blood soaked through her dress and through her hair. Deidra looked at her arms.

They drip, drip, dripped. Started to shake.

Figures rushed for their homes, for known doors - some slipped in the mud, in the sudden onslaught of gloom that devoured all morning light. The world is ending, Deidra thought distantly, the world is ending and I'm here to see it. For an eternity she could have stood there and watched, for an eternity - were it not for the figure stepping close, a girl that she has sworn to protect. Carina, her face pretty like newly grown flowers and caked with blood - like a little sister seeking a parent after a bad dream. Deidra's feet fought against the grasp of mud, her shaking legs finally gaining some resemblance of control; with her heart fluttering in her chest like a violent bird she grabbed Carina's hand, dragged her along the blood-filed road and grass. It dewed on the leaves, on the windows. Another scream.

They could have been walking for years in that chamber-dark, or perhaps even a second - Deidra didn't know after how long her hand grasped her door, practically tearing it open. Before she stepped inside, brought the rot in with her, she heard a yell;

"The fae - somebody must have angered the fae!"

Silence fell. Deidra stood there then, in that little house, hand shaking around Carina's and

she

sobbed.

---

The rain didn't let up for at least an hour, after that. It pattered against the glass frame of their little house like fingers tapping to be let in, whispering 'Deidra, Deidra, Deidra!' Even when she changed out of her ruined dress and under the surface of her bathtub she could hear it, waiting outside. She scrubbed and scrubbed, but the blood wouldn't leave under her nails - she still felt as if it was in her hair, her nose, her mouth.

Deidra didn't throw up, but it was a near thing. She said nothing to Carina - only wrapped them both up in a blanket and try to block out the horrible noises outside. Voices she couldn't make out, saying words she doesn't want to know. In her mind, the thought - that the fae are angry, very angry, with this little village of hers. But why? Had somebody laid with the soft-armed wife of a noble of river-rock and muddy hair? Had somebody stepped back on a deal? It sent her fear aflutter, the uncertainty - never before had she met a fae, but she knows enough of their horrible powers to seduce humans or lay their castles to ruin.

It took an hour to stop and then an hour more for Deidra to brave her house's threshold.

Clouds, still dark with intentions, rolled over the skies - but nothing near that nightmare of before, when you could not see anything but black. Light, glad light filled the forests and the road, reflecting off puddles filled with blood. A few villagers stepped here and there, like scared mice looking for the next worst thing. Fields soaked with it, every wall painted with it. The village was the aftermath of a slaughter - with some crazed wonder Deidra looked on at it, eyes wide like a great big moon. Her stomach twisted, snake-like; she thought she might finally throw up, sick with terror. So many questions raced through her mind, so many thoughts. As if she had just opened up the stomach of dome great animal and now asked it's intestines; what does it mean?

An omen so sinister it made her shiver, eyes watering.

She knew the answer not, but there are people who do - the ones that rule over petty, insignificant souls such as her. Deidra holds no titles and no land bigger than her tiny garden, but she did hold bravery. It sourged through her as she watched her home bleed, smelling of confusion and a broken belief that at least things can't get worse.

"The queen. The queen must know." Deidra whispers, voice strange. Makes a decision nobody else will. She goes inside, packs what little belongings she will need on the road and gently rouses Carina from her thoughts.

Outside, the forest grew ever darker. Deidra twists the iron necklace around her throat twice, just to make sure.

---

Never go into the woods alone, old women always warned; and old women certainly aren't lacking in wisdom. Strange things go there, looking for foolish humans to stray a step too close. The fae are not the worst thing out there, no - witches and beasts walk on backward legs, singing and offering you sweet bread, berries, wine. A fear of her childhood days that Deidra never outgrew, only changed into another cloth. They have every right to be afraid, to watch the forests' edge with a wary eye. People are found dead here - people die or never come back. Deidra is a girl no longer and she can make her way through the night if it were to come, but she is not foolish enough to risk it either.

The way to the castle is not a long one, yet Deidra gave them no rest. "Don't let me our of your sight, okay? If you hear voices, ignore them." She had said to Carina, all the figure of the eldest sister that she is. It is not that Carina is dull - Deidra just couldn't help but worry, no matter how the other insisted that she's alright.

Twigs crushed under their feet like the snapping of tiny bones, birds and the rustling of leaves their only company. The path was cleared with use, an occasional thorn bush grabbing hold of their arms as if to ask them to stay. Determination filled her steps, her gait controlled no matter how her mind still shook from what she saw. Drip, drip, drip. A sound - Deidra stilled like a statue.

Drip, drip, drip.

Step, step, step.

"Somebody's coming." She hushed to her companion, stepping in front of her instinctively - her hurting body tensed in anticipation, unsure if to wait or to rush for cover. Human voices, she hears then, not the painful singing of creatures unlike them. She relaxes a tad when she sees figures approaching, not with arms drawn or running for their throats.

And then tenses again when she sees the finery in which they are dressed. Fabric, softer than rabbit fur and shining like a morning star. She worries then, that she interrupted a hunting party - but they looked ruffled besides, and they must know the way to the castle.

Two men, three women. All beautiful and all grand, their hands not roughed with work like hers.

Deidra drops to her knees, hands clutched in front of her chest - she has never talked to a noble, much less a group, but she knew enough about chopped off heads to summon the knowledge. Her black, black eyes stare up, dropping her face for a moment. "Your majesties." Is that the right thing to say? Deidra sweats, suddenly truly feeling the peasant that she is. "I'm so sorry to bother you - the village."

That man. That man with glittering eyes and skin like polished rock. He could not be - right?

'Somebody must have angered the fae!'

Deidra paled like a dead body, clutched the iron around her neck. Fearful, but with burning resistance in her eyes. "The river. It - it turned to blood."

Her words stumbled out, wavering with nerves. "And then it just. It was suddenly so dark and it rained blood and -"

It cut short there, breath shaky in the chill. She waited silent, hoping, expecting.

Interactions: ravensunset blue-jay hery erzulie xayah. .V1LLAINISM._

 

[xayah.]

THE TENTH CHILD—CARINA.
The tenth child belongs to the world.

Why then, was the world doing its best to foil Carina, to crush her under its heel? Weren't mothers meant to love all their children equally, to protect them from life's harms? Perhaps that was only if they didn't consider those children a stain on their lives, and Carina felt as much like a stain as she currently looked.

The world had chosen to provide no help, at least no solid ground, for the young girl's feet to find purchase on in her anxiety ridden sprint. With each step, the soggy dirt rose up around her bare feet and pulled, as if threatening to drag her into an early grave. Splotches and splashes of mud were evidence of these attempts, and the mother of this abandoned tenth child was not afraid of displaying them. They adorned the frayed and worn out hem of her pants and completely covered her from the ankles down. Sweat, once cool condensation from the village's chilly and misty air, moistened Carina's now burning skin. A drop of it fell on her hand, but she paid it no mind, letting the bead of water run off.

Then another.

And another.

This time, Carina looked. Not down at her hand, but up—the skies... they were dying. A drop of its blood rolled down her cheek. It felt like a warning, a warning that she would end up the next bloody mess once the world was done bleeding out all over the small village that had been the closest thing to a quiet life for her. She almost already was. The rain soaked her hair and clothes, both once the color of bread flour but now reminiscent of black cherries.

And the smell. Even calling it the smell of death was far too pleasant. At least when you were dead, someone would have the decency to treat your body with respect for a life that was lived. This rain carried notes of miscare, of disrespect and desecration. It brought only the worst thoughts to mind for Carina. Not of herself, but of the one person who had given her refuge, who had given her a semblance of her childhood, and who had screamed only moments ago.

And so Carina ran, ignoring every obstacle the world had suddenly decided to sic on her, until her thin and lithe legs trembled under the strain of her own underweight body. But there—only a few feet away near the riverbed—stood a figure Carina could never mistake. She was straight-backed, but had a distinctive hunch of weariness from a lifetime of intense labor and now the weight of blood soaked clothing, with black curls and eyes that shone like stars in the darkest night despite all the hardships of life. As Carina struggled to stay upright and catch her breath, a small sigh of relief came out as well. Deidra was alive—no, is alive.

Deidra must've had a similar thought. The slight tremble of the girl's calloused and rough hands as the pair made their way through grass, dirt, and cobblestone into their shared abode made that clear to Carina. It felt very much like the grasp of her older siblings on the day that she was forced to leave, and an all-too-familiar dread filled the young girl's heart, a dread even worse than hearing that someone angered the fae: a death sentence for all of humankind. Even as Deidra, amidst all her shivering, provided what little clean water there was for the two of them to clean up, Carina could only go through the motions—she scrubbed and changed with little care for any stains that lingered. Even as Deidra, amidst the clear nauseousness welling within her, covered the two of them in blankets to fend off the weather that brought deathly illness, Carina's thoughts were occupied—mostly with nostalgia and despair matched only by the village's collective horror at the past hour's events.

It took a bit of a forceful shake to rouse Carina out of the worst things her imagination had been brewing for the past two hours. She had not realized it, but her misty grey eyes were genuinely misty—the beginnings of a tear were forming. If Diedra had noticed, the tenth child's host had been kind enough to not point it out. She had seen Carina's face, but it was clear she was looking elsewhere, outwards in fact. Towards the forest.

-

One hand clutching a small pouch so tight it turned white. Another close enough to her older companion to grab on at a moment's notice. The forest was no stranger to Carina, but never had she undergone a journey at night, much less with someone else by her side. In the daytime, the forest is a mild risk. Stay amongst the outer edge, and hope you are quick enough on your feet. But at night, no light, and no one, can save you. Rumors of creatures enhanced by moonlight vary from town to town, but some shred of truth must exist if so many variations exist. And still, Carina has faith—hope, foolish as it may be—that the two of them with live to tell of the disaster that struck their village today to the people of tomorrow, that the world is tired of playing with her life for the rest of the day.

Deidra's warnings go in one ear and out the other. Carina can only hear the sound of her heartbeat, and it is resounding. She feels it in her ears, her chest, and even her legs. Certain plants and spots on the ground that catch Carina's eye sport a red hue. Whether they are from the day's rain or... no, it is best not to think about such things. The young girl focuses instead on keeping time with her chaperone.

Right. Left. Right. Le-

Stop. Carina wobbled, desperately waving her arms to balance herself as the group approached. Not creatures, but not particularly well equipped to survive a night in a place where so many disappeared. All aristocrats, that much was clear, yet unlike Deidra's sudden drop to her knees, Carina remained upright. By all means, they could be swindlers cast out from another town after being exposed. The young girl in her involuntary travels from town to town had seen many a bastard claiming to be the dethroned heir or child of a noble. Their haphazard appearances—especially a certain lady with a ripped gown—supported that theory when Carina chose to ignore the presence of jewels that glistened even in the moonlight. Perhaps they were thieves who managed to succeed in a heist on a noble family as well. After all, what would a group of genuine royals be doing in the infamous forest without...

"Guards... there are none."

The statement was a mere whisper, like a breath of air that wasn't supposed to escape but leaked out anyways. It punctuated the air, a realization they had made much too late. To be in the forest, at night, with no protection, and not an ounce of combat experience amongst the group was a death sentence.

But the pair could not move from their spots, no matter how much Carina wished to ignore convention—convention was what landed her in her initial predicament in the first place. Not unless the royals allowed them to. And as Deidra trembled lightly besides her in anticipation of an answer after professing the day's seemingly apocalyptic events, Carina pinched the tips of her companion's clothes taut as if signaling her to get a hold of herself despite her own throbbing heart. The tenth child could only imagine that monsters sensed fear. These royals, if that's what they really were, were no exception.

.V1LLAINISM._ blue-jay hery ravensunset mother of sorrows

 

[ThatSassyWeirdo]

Lorelei

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They were almost within reach of the door, almost free of this place filled with unnatural aging and death. Lorelei had kept her song going, kept up her effort to calm the human, but that song was cut short as the doors slammed themselves shut in her face. She stared at them in confusion for a moment as she went to push them back open, but a voice reached her and she paused once more. She listened to the queen’s words, but instead of looking at the woman she actually looked at the human as she’d remembered the fear that radiated from him when the queen earlier stood next to him. She was seeming to try and assess if he was going to be okay or if he were about to crumple in fear once more.

Finally Lorelei turned to look at Leilia, a wicked grin of her own gracing her features.

”Pleasure to finally meet you, Your Majesty. I was beginning to believe you’d forgotten about me as I’ve been here for awhile and hadn’t heard a word from you.”

While she went on to address Leilia with a respectful title, it was clear there was little respect there as there was no curtsy to accompany her words or anything else to show respect. Perhaps if they were meeting under different circumstances Lorelei would have had more respect, but as soon as the woman chose sharp words and threats that respect had flown out the window.

”Perhaps if you’d taken the time to speak to me sooner you’d have discovered that my presence here has served as a protection for you.”

She let the statement sink in for only a moment.

”You see, my mother is quite displeased with you and your people currently. Your people have stolen something from us, something my people were ready to go to war for. It was by my convincing that I stopped them and was sent to speak with you and retrieve the item. My people are currently awaiting my return with the item.”

She watched the woman closely, wicked grin still in place.

”So go right ahead, rip my vocal chords out. I do wonder, though, how my people will react if I return harmed or even if I don’t return at all. What do you think, hmm?”

There was no fear coming from Lorelei, in fact it was quite the opposite. Lorelei was amused. She didn’t doubt the queen would follow through with her threats, but she wondered if this information would give the woman pause.

”Pity what’s happening to your people. It’s obviously not the human’s fault this is happening, so I wonder who’s behind this? How long do you think it’ll be before they turn on you instead? I mean they do seem to fear you more than they respect you. What happens when something they fear more than you appears and you prove to be powerless to stop it? Or worse, what if you can stop it and you don’t? Do you think your people will remain loyal?”

Lorelei was now clearly taunting the queen while also making sure those still in the ballroom heard her words and maybe raised questions. If Leilia planned on keeping her here in this damned castle purely for using fear, something she felt the queen was quite acquainted with, to protect a human, then Lorelei would continue to create hell.

round and round

erutan

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[miyabi]

scroll

semael.

ballroom

calendula (stranger), lorelei (stranger), leilia (queen shit biiih)

ThatSassyWeirdo mother of sorrows GracingGravity

Spiders set up a colony under their skin; they itched, anxious of the bodies that hounded them. There were few attempts to rein them in with palms on their shoulders, and the hands then, made them feel like they were engulfed in flames. Warm bodies upon warm bodies, palms amongst palms, the incessant chatter of those whom they’d known nothing about. With the abrupt stop in music, it was only apparent that something had happened—however, it wasn’t as they had expected; horror—terror, a ghastly sight to see, one that would embed itself for the eternity to come.

Death was a gnarly thing, the thought of it never quite occurred to Semael—fully, that was. No, death was natural, but a morbidity that most would turn their gaze from, shut the thought out, as no longer existing was nary an idea most liked to indulge on. And to witness it, a rapid change and the dissipation of a heartbeat, was all the more challenging to accept. No one quite speaks of the smell of it, or the sound, only what it looks like; this was not normal, the way the young woman perished—there was magic beyond means they understood, but this—this was beyond even that.

They were lucky, if one could call it that, to be pulled away in such a manner—their hands were numb, not only by the cold that had washed over their body as the warmth left, but by the conflict of it all. They snaked, winded, escaped what they could escape as a stranger pulled them along.

There was an abrupt stop, one with an interrupted stance and an audible smack. This was the first time they’d been smacked in such a way, or in any way for that matter, especially in the face. Yes, it was unexpected, but a refreshing take on the moment their image had sunk in. Most rhapsodize about the striking figure; a face that could burn cities, wage wars, bring death into the forefront. This one—they didn’t seem to do that.

“Hold it so people don’t see.”

Semael’s hand reached for the palm, feeling the cool, smooth surface of greenery on their skin. They brought down one hand, mostly to dust off the debris from their cloak. “Yes, this will protect me,” the human muttered under their breath with a raised brown, slightly peeking behind the frond, “thank you. Semael, and yours?” Their eyes followed that of the other, intricate details muddled by the disaster; such well-woven articles put to waste.

Swallowing, Semael speaks again, “if it makes you feel better—” They ripped the end of their cloak slightly to match their counterpart, “mine is ruined, too.”

Temporary peace was interrupted by an angry woman, one whose raven locks bounced with every step; her aura was a familiar one, the one of a rumored cruel queen. And that was who she was, Semael was not exactly afraid, only confused. While yes, her approach was hostile, it was understandable; there was, however, one thing. Semael did nothing wrong and to seemingly be under suspicion, that did not sit right with them in any sense. As much as they wanted to protest, kick, shout, their nature did not allow for it; to make a scene was an unsavory thing.

And a siren spoke: in her defiance came Semael's admiration. To be as strong willed only seemed a dream unattainable. Perhaps Semael had overstepped, there was something in the air for them to step up and speak as well. "What she said!" Their face turned red behind the leaf, eyes closed with embarrassment and strong hands clasped their wrists.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Pepsionne]

mood :

confused, panicked

location :

Fae Court

outfit :

mentions :

miyabi

interactions :

ThatSassyWeirdo GracingGravity

the human servant

;; Silas

Once the panic had reached a certain breaking point, Silas' body reacted defensively and he found himself in a daze. The world was a blur around him, fragmented memories and snippets of current events weaving themselves together to form a smothering blanket that weighed heavy over his senses. He didn’t hear the Siren call out to him, not even when she touched his chin to force his attention. Silas looked up at the woman but he didn’t see her, not really. He couldn’t see her, not when his past had managed to pump its ugly heart back to life in the form of the angry mob now surrounding them. Before he knew it, Silas had been lifted to his feet, body moving in the direction of one of the exits. He looked over at the Siren, eyes wide and glassy in fear, but before any real thought could cross his mind, the presence of the Queen jolted the entire ballroom into a fearful silence.

Silas’ body seemed like it was trying to shrivel in on itself in the desperate attempt to appear smaller. The Queen and the Siren beside him began to bite out vile words and thinly veiled threats to one another, locking themselves into a stalemate over—oh. They were arguing over him. What to do with him, specifically . Must he really be the catalyst of so much conflict and ugly words?

Another voice in the distance seconded the Siren’s incendiary words to the Queen, their identity obscured by a heavy cloak. Fearing the wrath the Queen was rumored to have held, Silas placed a hand on the Siren’s arm, a subtle and gentle act to plead her to back down. She may be indispensable to her people, but Silas did not have a kingdom waiting on his safe return. He didn’t even have a family to go home to, save Elio. Had his brother forgotten him by now? If remembering caused Elio pain, Silas would rather be forgotten. Why was it that his existence caused so much pain for those around him?

“I will go to the dungeons willingly, your majesty,” He said, bowing deeply towards the Queen to show his obedience still intact.

coded by reveriee.

 

[blue-jay]

EUDORA, THE HUMAN ENGAGED

It wasn't long after their escape from the castle that the well-dressed man, whom Eudora had figured was a fae, began barking demands at the Princess. If it wasn't his curious aura, it was his use of the phrase "My queen" that gave it away. His snappy response to her attempt at a self-introduction made her step back slightly. Eudora thought the man—Dario—had a rather unpretty way of handling other people, despite the prettiness of his well-kempt appearance and attire. However, she reminded herself that they had just hardly escaped the disaster of a castle crumbling in on itself. Perhaps she was seeing him at his worst?

Eudora had nothing to say and thus watched silently as the man threw a few more unpleasant remarks at the Princess before starting off down the path she had indicated earlier. She cast a look at the Princess as if to say 'Isn't it dangerous for him to walk alone?' and, as if reading her mind, the Princess provided comforting words, assuring her that they weren't responsible for what happened to him now. Eudora gazed dubiously at the shadowy, unfamiliar woodland, pondering the extent to which the Princess felt responsible for her. She could feel the ghost of the grip that had saved her from a falling pillar and pulled her to the escape route earlier. She found herself pondering fate, the sky in the Princess's eyes, and the meaning of the way people meet each other, but it all proved too large to wrestle with at a time like this, so she put it off for later.

Soon, two people emerged from the other side of the woods. After a moment, Eudora was able to identify the woman as the half-fae princess Dianthe who was spoken of by many in the court, but the man was unfamiliar to her. He certainly didn't look like most people from the human court. Eudora watched as the question (“…Where’s mother?”) was thrown out by one princess and deftly avoided by the other. At this, Eudora tuned out of the interaction and turned back to the ruin that was once the castle. If the Queen was dead... it would be just like the history books. Power struggles. Violent conflict. Starvation. Sickness. Perhaps another power would see how vulnerable they were and use it as a chance to imperialize. The consequences would be dire and merciless.

Eudora was pulled out of her stunned catastrophizing and followed the Princess and the others into the woods, leaving the rubble of the castle behind her with a finality that assured her that: yes, history really was being made. And here was Eudora: a nobody peasant girl among princesses and ambassadors in the midst of it all. The bizarreness of everything made Eudora nauseous.

-

The walk through the woods, surprisingly, wasn't unpleasant. Eudora kept herself from dwelling on the memory of the unconscious woman left for dead by examining the flora and fauna. Grounding herself in the beauty of the woodland saved her from the dread that arose at the echoes of strange noises and the movement of shadows in the undergrowth. When she saw an insect she recognized from Tristan's books, she would point it out to whoever was near, too delighted to care if they were truly paying attention to her or not.

To Dianthe: "Do you see that moth over there? It comes out of its cocoon without a mouth, meaning it can't eat beyond its larval stage. It lives off of stored energy for its entire adulthood and dies within a week."

To Drakon, while holding the beetle up to his face: "You see the horns? The males of this species use them to duel for potential mates. What brutes!"

To the Princess: "Did you know crickets sing with their wings? They rub them together rapidly. The wings are made for it, too. The body—an instrument!"

She spared Dario her musings, not wishing to worsen his mood or have him snap at her. She occasionally shot him unsubtle, probing glances, as if trying to gauge if he would be interested, but she ended up turning away each time.

Just as she was about to point out a caterpillar crawling on a branch to Dianthe, a rustling noise from somewhere ahead of the group stopped her. After a few moments, two women emerged from the undergrowth. Eudora could tell from their attire that they were commonfolk, probably from a human settlement. It gave her a sense of comfort similar to the strange solace she felt when she first met the Princess, but stronger and without the feeling that it would dissipate at any second.

The older one dropped to her knees. The younger didn't. The older began speaking ("Your majesties.") and Eudora felt sick. Of the five of them, the address was easily the least appropriate for her. She was a commoner squeezed into a fancy dress and heels that gave her blisters. The title would fit better if she were married to some fae noble or married to Tristan. But not now. Not ever.

The older of the two, with shining dark skin and hair, went on speaking and Eudora's eyes widened at her words. A river turning to blood? A rainfall of blood? She found herself resisting the urge to look at Dario, though not due to any impulse to accuse him--for a reason that was inarticulable to her.

Although Eudora had heard a plethora of uncomplimentary tales about fae, she didn't hold the other race in particularly low regard. Humans loved to pass around stories of mischievous fae, cruel fae, vain fae. Eudora knew those stories, but she also knew the stories of mischievous humans, cruel humans, vain humans. She found herself unimpressed with the idea that fae were considerably more wicked than humanity; it seemed to her that they simply had more means and more time on their hands to be wicked if they wished to--but that would also mean more means and more time to be benevolent if they wished to.

In her childhood, the villagers loved to tell Eudora that a fae had stolen her father away, but what if the real explanation was painfully mundane? What if he was simply attacked by a bear or killed by a human bandit so he could robbed of the clothes on his back?

Even without deep prejudices of her own, Eudora wasn't unaware of the political reality. She knew that, for many humans, the nation of fae would be among the first suspects for the strange collapse of the castle. And she knew that a river turning to blood fit perfectly into the sort of accounts given of the wrath of fae. Crop failures. Unexplainable diseases. Irreversible transformations. Perverted natural phenomena. That was the image of fae: tormenting humanity for sport or for gain. But what would a fae have to gain by making it rain blood on a poor human village? Would it even be worth it?

She thought of the blood pattering on roofs, streaming along the eaves, making puddles. The dark red filling ant hills, soaking the wings of bees, drowning helpless beetles.

Eudora had no words. The woman had addressed the royals and nobles. Eudora was in a fine silk dress, but she wasn't a person made from that fabric. She had no right to answer to "Your Majesty." Even if she did, what would she have to say about a crimson river and rainfall that could truly help? About a collapsing castle? The bizarreness of it all! Eudora took a few steps closer to the kneeling woman and kneeled down in front of her without a word. She met her at eye level with a sympathetic gaze, a little guilty that she had nothing to offer but a reciprocation of deference and a small silence. But in a world where something was always singing or crying out, she thought that perhaps a small silence could be precious.

Eudora found her gaze wandering over to the other woman with misty eyes and light hair, who was pinching her companion's clothing. She looked considerably less hopeful than the other and had only breathed a comment about their lack of guards. Eudora wanted to say something reassuring--to be seen by the two women as someone like themselves--but she had already committed to her silence. Thus, she only nodded at her before facing the ground.

 

[erzulie]

scroll

Half-Fae

Dianthe.

mood

wary/scared.

outfit

「1」

location

woods.

interactions

mysterious prince , violetta , dario, eudora

tags

.V1LLAINISM._ ravensunset , hery , blue-jay

Dianthe did not even look back as they left behind the rubble of her home, of her cage. She was no fool, she knew why Violetta had failed to answer her question. Emotions raged war against each other on the battlefield that was her heart. But she could not focus on them now, not when someone quite literally leaned on her. Drakon’s weight was slowly beginning to wear on her. Though strong, Dianthe was a whole head shorter than him. His body was much more solid than her own. She would not complain though, instead the princess clenched her jaw and pushed forward. Stealing a quick glance at him she spoke softly. “How are you fairing?”

The walk was not kind on his leg, she knew. Perhaps she should have not asked. Dianthe moved a bit closer, tucking her small form under his. She needed to say something, to hide her growing nerves. The woods had once been her home, her very own kingdom even. For years she had run and played, gathered sweet berries and watched the creatures of the land from atop trees. For years she had ignored the warning of not venturing into them. Were their words right? Had what her mother said been true. She was afraid now, wary of the place she once adorned. Dianthe thought back to her dream.

There was a voice speaking to her, suddenly pulling her from grim thought. A girl stood beside her, someone that Dianthe had not met before. She talked excitedly while they walked, she didn’t seem to fear the woods and Dianthe found herself envious. She wished to go back before her home became decayed before her eyes. Her voice was welcomed however and Dianthe listened as she spoke, nodding to show that she was listening.

Her attention was diverted when someone appeared up ahead. This was the farthest that she’d ever gone. Her eyes then landed on the woman kneeling before them. Her words shocked the princess. Had she said blood? Had things gone to chaos here as well. “What are they expecting us to do? We are as lost as you are…”

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[ravensunset]

THE HUMAN COURT.
mother of sorrows .V1LLAINISM._ blue-jay erzulie hery xayah.

The path in front of Violetta was not well worn, but it was there, clear for them to follow. She shivered as the cold wind brushed past her, the trees seemed to close in- Violetta was dressed for the indoors, after all, but it was more than just the temperature causing goosebumps to form along her skin.

She had to keep walking. There was nothing else to do, and Violetta didn’t even want to look at the few companions around her. What had they done? They hadn’t helped, wouldn’t help, couldn’t do anything but remind her that she would take the blame for this. That a village alone could not possibly begin to help with a now gone castle. The girl, Eudora, tried to make conversation, something about crickets, to which Violetta had given a faint nod, barely enough to pass for politeness, but ultimately gave no reply.

Her walk was soon cut short as two figures stepped out from a turn in the path. Two women, their faces fearful and clothes old, torn. Peasants. Were they wet? As one of them dropped to their knees and spoke, Violetta realized what it was on their hair and clothes, not water, but blood. Like something out of a story they’d be told at night, and yet, with the ringing sounds of falling stone, Violetta didn’t think she could hold any more shock inside of her.

She looked back at the woman when she finished her speech, the scared but expecting eyes. Was Violetta being asked for help? This wasn’t what was meant to happen, she was meant to be the one going to them, gathering men to salvage what they could, promising gold and status, not asked to deal with bloodsoaked peasants. Her companions seemed to have a similar response, struck still and unanswering.

“You may stand,” Violetta nodded to the woman, giving no look to the other companion, and to her great surprise, her voice came out steady, overcoming whatever had seized it away from her a phrase before, “Rained blood? How could something like that have happened?”

The woman stood like a branch snapping back from a hand, dirt and moss sticking to where her knees dug into the black soil. If she had bad nerves it was definitely being overpowered by the words that fought a war to get out her throat. “I. I don't know, the river turned red and then it rained and -” She cast an unsure glance at the younger girl beside her, biting dry lips. Her voice stuttered over the syllables and vowels, dragged them on like wheels of rope. Like the pressure of a sea pounding on a wooden dam with a village nestled just under it.

And then, it broke;

“The fae!” She burst out, eyes wide with unknown fear. “The fae must have done it - somebody angered them!”

The princess’ eyes narrowed at the words. The fae? It was true that the peace between them was thin and unsure, and yet, now? When they had one of their own at the court, in goodwill?

In goodwill. The fear that had been living inside her hardened into a cold, angry knot. Violetta had always heard the fae were tricky, slippery, devious creatures. She had not, until that night, encountered it. She turned her head to the woods surrounding them, where Dario had just a moment ago disappeared off to. If the fae were responsible, they were not getting off so easy.

“Then it looks like our best course of action is to find them,” She said under her breath, stepping forwards in the direction she could have sworn she’d seen him go. A new task. To say it was welcome would be almost too callous, but Violetta had always preferred to see a course of action in front of her, “Ambassador,” Violetta’s voice was raised, projecting out through the trees. He could hardly have gone far.